


Suitcases and Tealeaves

by Berunien



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Background Relationships, Erebor is on an island off the north of Scotland, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Frottage, Hobbiton is a small English village, Humor, M/M, Most of this fic will be T-Rated, Multi, Oral Sex, Politician! Thorin, Rimming, Sassy Bilbo, Teahouse Owner! Bilbo, Thorin's company is his campaign team, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 02:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 165,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1966275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Berunien/pseuds/Berunien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was nobody special. </p><p>He paid his bills on time, brushed his teeth twice a day, and ran a small Teahouse down the lane called Bella’s Brewhouse, fondly named in honour of his passed mother. Bilbo was 35, had a Degree in English Literature, and lived alone. </p><p>Nothing exciting or extraordinary happened to him.<br/>That was, until his oldest friend Gandalf Greyhame arrived on his doorstep late at night, after a favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Suited Stranger

Bilbo Baggins was nobody special.

He paid his bills on time, brushed his teeth twice a day, and ran a small Teahouse down the lane called Bella’s Brewhouse, fondly named in honour of his passed mother. Bilbo was 35, had a Degree in English Literature, and lived alone. The cottage he had inherited from his parents was spacious yet homely, a sandstone two-story, fitted out with all the latest eco-gadgets such as solar panels and grey water recycling. His roof was covered in wildflowers and the stone walls were concealed by vines, all matching the stunning gardens on his plot; thoroughly enjoyed by the resident Highland pony, Myrtle.

The quaint English village he lived in, Hobbiton, was your typical ‘small-village’ scenario where everybody knew everybody’s business, and back doors were often left unlocked just in case a neighbour was in need of some emergency flour, mid-baking session. There were very few bitumen roads, most of them remaining in their original cobblestoned state, and the townspeople mainly preferred to walk everywhere or travel by horseback, often doing both activities in the warmer months without shoes.

Oh yes, Bilbo was quite the _Bond Villain_ …

Bilbo leant back in his leather window seat and shut his eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he was thousands of feet in the air, desperately wishing that he was back in his gardens, mindlessly weeding the sunflower beds.

He hated flying… he didn’t even own a car. The fastest speed he was accustomed to was a lazy trot on the back of Myrtle, as they slowly meandered down Bagshot Row to visit his cousins every Sunday afternoon. If it wasn’t such an emergency, he would have opted for a train home instead but his cousin Drogo’s wife, Primula, had unexpectedly gone into labour two weeks early and he could no longer watch the Teahouse for Bilbo while he was away. Visiting friends in London had been lovely, but it was time to come back to reality.

The small domestic plane rattled, causing Bilbo to grip his armrests till his knuckles went white. He opened his eyes and searched for an air hostess, desperately needing a stiff drink. “Excuse me miss, any Scotch on hand?” She smiled at him politely and rustled through her drinks trolley, serving the amber liquid with an ice whiskey ball. “Excellent, cheers.”

He stood up and ambled into the aisle, reaching for his wallet in his rear pocket. “Sorry, just a minute, let me find my damn wallet.” He pulled out a ten pound note and handed it over, took the small glass in return, pocketed the change, and took a tentative sip. It was magnificent. “Brilliant.” He nodded his thanks and she smiled politely in reply, returning to her rounds.

Turning to his seat, Bilbo was swiftly shouldered in the back as the plane encountered some turbulence, and he spilt his lovely Scotch all down his front. “Fucking fantastic, _really_.” He turned to face the person responsible, and was greeted with a dark scowl. The man was tall, dark haired, had a strong jaw and pointed nose, and was rather handsome, much to Bilbo’s dismay. “I’m assuming you’ll replace my drink, _sir_?”

The brooding man looked him over disdainfully, whilst he brushed down the lapels of his charcoal suit. “And you’ll pay for the dry cleaning of my suit in return, I assume?” He replied, his deep rumbling voice thick with distaste.

Bilbo scoffed. “You’re the one who _barged_ into me!”

“And you’re the one who wasn’t looking where he was going.” He spat.

The air hostess hurried over, handing a handful of serviettes over to both men, who were now eyeing each other dangerously. “So sorry about all of this, gentlemen. The turbulence has been a real pest all today...” She looked pleadingly down at Bilbo, wincing apologetically.

He folded, succumbing to her pained expression. “It’s fine, really. Just a simple misunderstanding… Another Scotch, if you please.”

The suited stranger shot one last glare to the shorter man and let out a huff, sauntering back to the front of the plane towards first class.

“This one’s on the house, since you lost most of your last one...” She explained as she pushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear.

Bilbo sighed. “It’s a shame you have to put up with such pricks here.”

She suppressed a short bark of laughter behind her hand. “He was fine. I’ve had worse, really.”

He nodded in response and handed her a small tip. “Here, anyways.”

The air hostess beamed and nodded thankfully, placing the note in the tip jar as he returned to his seat, careful to not cover himself in more liquor. He sniffed his damp shirt and winced. “Fantastic, I smell like a fucking brewery.” He moaned to himself, dabbing again at his soiled navy shirt, thankful he hadn’t decided on his white one this morning.

He gave up on his shirt and buttoned up his grey cardigan, tucking it into his maroon trousers. Leaning back in his chair, he had another sip, eager for the flight to be well and truly over.

 

\---

 

God, he hated airports.

Even though Bree Airport was one of the smallest he had been through, it still contained the manic hustle and bustle of frenzied travellers, eager to reach their destination. Bilbo hurried forwards, avoiding bumping into grumpy passengers and their suitcases, and headed for the baggage claim. Signs led him down a tunnel and under the main entrance to the building, where he found the all-too-familiar conveyor belt; suitcases and bags already moving down the mechanical black snake that curled around the large white room.

The place was swamped, two other flights had arrived in the same half hour as his, and people were already pushing each other out of the way, impatiently diving forward to retrieve their satchels and suitcases. This was the part of the flight he hated the most, people were just so damn _rude_ when it came to this stage of their journey.

He shuffled through the masses carefully, and headed towards the conveyor belt on the opposite side of the room. When he finally found a space free to wait for his bags he pulled his leather satchel around to his back, preparing to pounce. He looked around the belt, eyes searching for his navy suitcase. “Anytime now, yep. It’s not like I’m in a rush or anything.” He mumbled to himself, rolling back on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

His suitcase rounded the corner and he grabbed it roughly by the handle, yanking it to stand by his side. Not bothering to read the tag, he turned around and marched of there, eager to be out of there as soon as possible. He strode quickly through the crowds and crashed into a suited shoulder, making him fall uncoordinatedly on his behind.

“You again.”

Bilbo looked up and was met once more with the steely blue eyes of the suited stranger. “What a fucking _magnificent_ surprise.” He groaned as he stood up, brushing himself down.

“Tell me, do you ever watch where you’re going, or do you just make a habit of running into strangers?” He raised an eyebrow coyly, arms crossed.

“Well, do you make a habit of being an utter _twat_ to everyone you meet?” Bilbo spluttered indignantly, utterly repulsed by the strangers lack of manners.

“Just the lucky ones.”

Bilbo sighed, thoroughly exhausted. “Well, didn’t I choose the right day to fly? I’m _so lucky._ ” He grasped the handle of his suitcase and glared up at the stranger. “Not that this isn’t the highlight of my day, but I really must be off. Good afternoon.”

He stormed off towards the main doors, not looking back, the amused chuckle behind him passing unheard.

 

\---

 

The small community bus came to a halt just out front of his cottage, jostling Bilbo awake from his nap. He squinted his eyes and turned to look at his wooden gate and smiled.

“Welcome home, Bilbo. Bet you’re glad to be back.”

He stood and walked to the front of the bus, patting the grey-haired bus driver on the back. “My dear Proudfoot, you have no idea.” He stepped out of the bus, suitcase in tow, and breathed in the country air. “You off soon?”

He chuckled. “Got a few business types to cart about, I’ll be done before supper.”

“Give my love to the missus, yeah? Tell her that her bread pudding recipe was brilliant, tried it out last week.”

“Of course, lad. Now I best be off, you know how those London businessmen don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Bilbo groaned, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “Oh, all to well, I’m afraid. Good afternoon!”

“Afternoon, Bilbo.”

The bus groaned into action, leaving him alone at the front gate. He smiled softly, warmed by the sight of his beautiful garden, now golden in the orange sunset. His stomach groaned, spurring him into action. “Time for some dinner, I think.” He mumbled to himself, closing the gate behind him.

Myrtle trotted up to greet him, rubbing her face down his shoulder softly. “Oh I’ve missed you, girl.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved an apple, offering it over. “Don’t say I never bring you anything from abroad.” Myrtle whinnied happily, pushing closer to him as he scratched behind her ears just how she liked it. “I’ll bring you supper soon, just got to fix myself something first.” He ran his fingers through her mane softy, teasing out a few tangles, and started for the house.

He unlocked the door with one hand, balancing the suitcase under his other arm awkwardly, and stepped heavily inside, attempting to regain his stance. The cottage was dark in the afternoon light, and smelt slightly of damp after being closed up for two weeks. He walked past the living room, noticing his Christmas decorations -a few gold and red trees on the windowsill- were still up and made a mental note to fix that the next day.

Bilbo dumped his suitcase unceremoniously in the hallway and walked into the kitchen, pulling the fridge door open. “So what’s for dinner… mouldy lettuce, stale bread or runny tomatoes. Delicious.”

The pantry didn’t offer much more, but after finding some dried pasta, a small jar of pesto and some canned tomatoes, penne Napolitana deemed the choice for the night. He worked first on the sauce, adding some fresh basil from his herb garden for flavour, splashed in some red wine and left the sauce to reduce on the stove for a while. “Some wine would go down quite nicely, actually.” Bilbo mused to himself, pouring a glass of the Merlot for himself. After a quick sip, he set about starting the fire, the crisp early spring air cooling his stone cottage to a bone chilling temperature.

 

\---

 

The fire was roaring, filling the lushly decorated living room with a cosy light, and Bilbo was in his favourite armchair by the fireplace, feet up on his wooden trunk coffee table, eating his dinner. It wasn’t the most complex meal he had ever cooked, but with a near-empty pantry, it would do for the night. He put his empty bowl down on the trunk and took the wineglass in both hands. “ _Christ_ , it’s good to be home.” He took a long sip, staring up at his many bookcases, and melted further into his chair, utterly relaxed.

_-Knock knock-_

“Who on earth could be visiting at this hour?” He put his wineglass down and went to the front door, tying his dressing gown tighter around his waist. Bilbo pulled the door open with a loud _creak_ and was met by the twinkling grey eyes of his oldest friend, Gandalf Greyhame. He was over a head taller than Bilbo with long salt and pepper hair, which was in its usual unruly state, tucked messily into a grey trilby, an eggshell blue scarf thrown over one shoulder. The elder man was in his usual casual attire, wearing a baggy charcoal woollen jumper, which was pulled over a crisp white shirt and tucked into navy cotton trousers with brown oxfords.

“Bilbo, my young chap! So good to see you. I heard you came home early, all that bother with poor Primula.”

“Gandalf! Please, do come in.” He fussed over the older man, taking his hat and scarf, and hung them by the door. “I just opened some wine, please, do come sit near the fire.”

He chuckled as Bilbo pushed him towards his eclectic cushion-covered lounge, and left to retrieve another glass from the kitchen. “That would be lovely, my dear. You do always have the best taste in reds.”

Bilbo scoffed. “Yes, well, I believe it was you who got me my first bottle of red wine for my 18th. So most of the credit should go to you.” He padded back into the sitting room and filled his guests glass. “So, you say you saw Prim earlier?”

“She’s doing rather well, you should have another addition to your family by tomorrow, I think.”

“Yes, because we don’t have a large enough family now…” He started counting his cousins and relatives on his fingers and lost count, his mind fuzzy with the red wine. “Us Bagginses and Tooks really do know how to fill up a village, that’s for sure.”

Gandalf laughed softly, taking the offered wine glass in hand and smelling it eagerly. “Indeed you do, my lad.” He took a long sip and hummed appreciatively. “A fine drop, as usual.”

Bilbo nodded in response, mid-sip himself. “As much as I enjoy your company, Gandalf, I’m assuming you’re after something at this late hour?”

The elder man nodded, placing his glass on the wooden table between them. “I know I usually come at a more sociable hour, and I won’t take up too much of your time, but fear I have a small favour to ask.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the London visitors that have just arrived?”

“Old Proudfoot mentioned something about some businessmen?”

Gandalf nodded, eyes twinkling. “A Politician, actually. Any chance you’ve heard of Thorin Durin?”

Bilbo furrowed his brow, scouring his brain for the name. “Is he related to those brothers that are always on the cover of Heat, the ‘party princes’, I think they’ve been called?”

“Their uncle, actually.”

He whistled sympathetically. “That must be pretty rough, dealing with those two troublemakers, especially after _those photos_ being leaked to the press.”

“They’re sweet lads, I fear they just get a little… carried away.” He winked cheekily. “Nevertheless, I didn’t come here to gossip, but in search of a tour guide.”

Bilbo spluttered, eyes widening. “Me? A tour guide for a Politician? I work in a Teahouse, Gandalf. I’m not exactly used to dealing with _those_ types.”

Gandalf chuckled, taking another sip of his wine. “All you have to do is take him around the village and tell him about all of the environmental changes that have been made the past few years, that’s why he’s here.”

He eyed the older man suspiciously. “And this isn’t another one of your schemes? Last time I helped you out I ended up with a pony in my front garden.”

“And Myrtle has been a lovely addition to your home, has she not?”

The younger man grumbled in response, rolling his eyes. “That’s not the point. Are you sure you’re telling me everything?”

“My dear Bilbo, I should be offended.” Gandalf raised a hand to his chest in mock-offence, earning an amused chuckle from his companion.

“Fine, keep your secrets.” Bilbo sighed in defeat. “Where and when?”

“Tomorrow just after breakfast, he’s staying at the Gamgee’s Bed and Breakfast while he’s here.” Gandalf stood up slowly, groaning from the movement. “He’s a nice enough fellow, just don’t be late.”

Bilbo stood and ushered him to the door, offering him his hat and scarf. “Are you going to tell me why he’s really here?”

Gandalf chuckled amusedly, eyes twinkling. “And what would be the fun in that, my friend?”

“Typical.” He grumbled as he opened the front door and pulled his arms around himself, the brisk air startlingly cold compared to the warmth in front of the fire. “Stay out of trouble, would you? You don’t want to find yourself being labelled as a _disturber of the peace_.”

The grey haired man clapped Bilbo on the back, beaming down at him. “I’ll try my very best. No promises though, I’m afraid.”

“Yes, yes. Now off with you! Some of us respectable members of society like to maintain a bedtime _before_ midnight.” He fussed over Gandalf, pushing him good-naturedly out of the door.

“I’ll be in contact soon, my dear. Thank you again for the wine.” He offered Bilbo one last smile and turned, whistling to himself cheerfully as he walked out the front gate and down Bagshot Row.

Bilbo closed the door behind him and tripped on his suitcase in the hallway, only catching himself at the last moment, one arm braced against the sandstone wall. He exhaled and steadied himself, eyeing the navy offender distastefully. “Time to get you upstairs and unpacked, I think.”

He hefted the suitcase up with a grunt and headed upstairs slowly and carefully, suddenly feeling the full effects of the wine. His room was luckily close to the top of the staircase, only one door down the short hallway. Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he dragged the bag up and onto his bed, groaning with the strain.

Much like the rest of the house, Bilbo’s bedroom was all about comfort, his large antique wrought-iron bed taking up most of the wall opposite to the door. The room was furnished sparsely, containing a ratty but enormously comfortable maroon suede couch, an ancient oak writing desk and matching wardrobe, and two small curved bedside tables that were stacked high with various books. The cream wallpapered walls were covered in mismatched frames, in gold and wood, all sporting various photos or artworks.

Bilbo sighed happily as he looked around his room, utterly relieved to be sleeping in his own bed once more. Not that the bed in London was stiff or too small, but there was nothing quite like the comfort that Bilbo found in his own bed. He perched on the side of his bed, unzipped his suitcase, and let out a quiet “…Oh.”

This wasn’t his suitcase.

He pawed through its contents, of a man’s navy striped pyjamas and an old grey tee, various folded dress shirts, an Oxford University hoodie, and various toiletries and paraphernalia one always packs for more than a weekend abroad. Bilbo felt guilty looking through the suitcase, as if he was peering into it without permission.

“Who in the blazes does this belong to, hmm?” He mumbled to himself, pulling out a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice. Bilbo flicked to the front page, hoping for a name or number, but was met with blank pages, and the index.

Bilbo continued going through the suitcase, pushing aside assorted navy and black socks and stilled, having reached a neatly folded pile of men’s pants. He blushed, now keenly aware of his intrusion into this mystery man’s privacy. Even though he was alone in his room, he looked around awkwardly to ensure he was alone, and then looked at the label at the elastic of the black pants.

“ _Thorin?!_ ”

He dropped the pair of pants in an instant, his blush deepening, clapping his hand on his mouth in embarrassment. _Of all of the suitcases to mix up, of bloody course it was this one... But seriously, who over the age of 10 has their name written in sharpie on the tag of their pants?!_

“That’s enough investigating for one day, I think…” He gingerly placed the socks back on top of the pairs of pants, trying his best to make the pile look untouched. That was one conversation he severely wanted to avoid the next day, he did not want to have to explain why the politician’s pants had been haphazardly shoved back into his suitcase. He would look like a right creep.

Bilbo put the rest of the suitcase neatly back together and placed it at the end of his bed, out of sight for the moment. He would deal with that embarrassment tomorrow. “Christ, I hope I didn’t pack anything too awful that he went through…” He shook his head, trying not to overthink it too much. It was already rather late, and he had an early start of tour-guiding the next day.

He found a spare toothbrush in his ensuite and got ready for bed, thankful that he was already in his pyjamas and didn’t have to slip into a cold pair of flannel trousers. Bilbo heaved himself into bed and settled in, watching a repeat of 8 out of 10 cats on his iPad, which was propped up by a book on his bedside table. He rolled over and nearly instantly fell asleep, Jimmy Carr’s haunting laugh echoing through his dreams.

 

\---

 

After rustling up a gourmet breakfast of reheated pasta, Bilbo was out in the front yard, hitching the small wooden two-seater wagon onto Myrtle. She didn’t mind the fussing and attention, and was happily nibbling on the grass within reach. It was a breathtakingly beautiful morning, crisp yet sunny, making Bilbo glad he had pulled on his heavy navy double breasted coat over his casual olive green cardigan, white shirt and dark denim jeans. The spring afternoons may have warmed up, but the mornings still held the winter chill.

“Right. Time to go meet this _Thorin_ character, I think.” He mumbled to Myrtle as he checked her harness once more. Happy with its state, Bilbo pulled himself up onto the cart, popped his black wayfarers on, and he was off.

It was not yet nine in the morning, but the whole town was already up and about, getting their Monday morning affairs sorted. As he meandered down the hill, Bilbo passed a few of his neighbours in their front gardens happily tilling away, and exchanged a few pleasantries before continuing down Bangshot Row, headed for the Gamgee’s B&B.

Bell and Hamfast Gamgee had been married for over ten years by now, being childhood sweethearts, and had set up their five star B&B five years ago, just after the birth of their first son, Sam. The cottage was a long two-story redbrick, had a large wildflower garden and vegetable patch, and an impeccable modern interior, recently renovated by Bell’s Interior Designer cousin, May.

Bilbo tied Myrtle’s reigns to a small willow tree in the back yard, pulled the navy suitcase out of the back of the wagon and made for the front door of the B&B, eager to get the morning’s proceedings over with. As he rounded the corner he found in the front garden, frantically speaking into his iPhone, a timid ginger-haired man, who was wearing a myriad of knitted items, all in various shades of grey and maroon. He jumped when he turned and saw Bilbo, making him quickly wrap up his conversation and end the call.

“I’m so sorry if I scared you, you didn’t have to end your conversation on my account.”

The ginger man shook his head vigorously, biting his bottom lip. “No it’s not a problem, it was finishing up anyways.”

Bilbo eyed the man curiously, unsure if he had just met his companion for the morning. “Mr, ah, Durin?”

The younger man spluttered, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “Heavens, no! I’m his p.a.” He walked forward towards Bilbo, offering his hand. “I’m Ori Rison, if you need anything from Mr Durin, just come find me.”

He shook his hand eagerly, earning a beaming smile in return. Ori was probably the most adorable man he had ever met, with some of the biggest brown eyes he had seen. “Bilbo Baggins. A pleasure, really. Welcome to Hobbiton, I guess! I hope you’re enjoying it here so far.”

“It’s so lovely here, Mr Baggins.”

“Just Bilbo, please. Mr Baggins is my father.”

Ori giggled in response, the sound making Bilbo’s heart melt just a little. “Only if you call me Ori.” He looked behind himself carefully, as if checking the coast was clear. “Mr Durin’s in a bit of bad mood today, something about his luggage getting mixed up? He was on the phone to Bree Airlines all last night, someone’s made off with it apparently.”

Bilbo winced. “Yeah, that might have been me…” He pulled the suitcase from behind him, Ori’s eyes widening. “It was mayhem yesterday at the airport and I just grabbed the first navy suitcase I could find, also, I think he might have mine?”

“You have no idea how much you have rescued me right now.” Ori sighed, clapping his hand to his chest. “I was about to call his family in London to express post his clothes over.”

“How about you give this to him so he can get some fresh clothes on, I’ll make some tea and meet you both in the kitchen in, say, fifteen minutes?”

Ori positively beamed. “Oh Mr Bilbo, I do think we are going to have a wonderful time here if everyone is half as nice as you.”

Bilbo waved him away, shaking his head amusedly. “Come on, don’t keep the man waiting.”

The p.a. grabbed the suitcase eagerly and rushed inside, making a decent amount of noise as he thumped up the staircase, the sound spiking the interest of Bell Gamgee. She popped her head out of the front door, beaming as she spotted Bilbo, waving eagerly for him to come inside.

Bell was the sort of person you instantly liked. She was short, plump, had a blonde bob, tortoise shell horn-rimmed glasses and a beige floral dress on, accessorised with a pearl necklace and teal cardigan. “Should have known all that racket would have been your doing, pet.”

He grinned and walked forward, kissing her on the cheek. “That p.a. is adorable, Bell.”

She rolled her eyes, sighing fondly. “Poor lad wouldn’t know a potato from a pumpkin, but he seems to know what he’s doing with that Durin chap, he’s never off his damn phone.” Bell ushered him in, pushing him towards the kitchen. “Now enough talking shop, how’s my love Prim?”

Bilbo found himself pushed into a stool at the kitchen counter, as Bell fussed about the kitchen and set about making some tea. “I hear she’s doing well, apparently I’ll have a new family member sometime this afternoon.”

“Oh that is just lovely. You visiting them at Bree Hospital anytime soon?” She handed over a cup of tea, gesturing towards the milk and sugar on the bench for him to take at his leisure.

“I don’t want to be a bother, I’ll probably visit sometime tomorrow afternoon, after everything’s settled.” He added milk and sugar, and took a tentative sip.

She nodded thoughtfully, leaning against the opposite side counter, elbows propped up holding her dainty floral teacup. “It’s probably best, don’t want to stress Prim when she’s so tired.” He hummed in agreement. “So, enough of that, how was London?”

He put his teacup down, crossing his arms at his chest on the countertop. “It was fine, I suppose. Very loud. Lots of traffic. _The usual_.”

“I don’t know how anyone lives there, everyone is always so rushed. I’m always telling my Hamfast, its nice and all to visit for a weekend, but anything longer than that is plain exhausting.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “And those London types are so rude! Always shoving each other and hurrying somewhere.”

“Oh Bell, you don’t have to tell me twice. I ran into one on my flight, he spilled a glass of scotch all down my front and didn’t even apologise or pay for another one!”

She covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide. “No!”

He nodded eagerly, taking another sip of tea. “And then he shoved into me again at the baggage claim! He was possibly the rudest man I have ever had the displeasure to meet-”

“-And of course, you were the _shining example_ of good country manners?”

Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut, turned around on his stool and found the same annoyingly-handsome suited stranger from the flight, arms crossed, leaning casually against the door frame with his hip, a smirk playing about his lips. He nodded towards Bell, offering her a small smile, and walked into the kitchen to fetch himself a cup of tea. Bilbo glared daggers into his back, simultaneously embarrassed and infuriated.

Bell glanced between the two men, a cheeky smile in place. “Morning, pet. Sleep well?”

He hummed in agreement as he reached into an overhead cabinet for a teacup, Bilbo trying to ignore how his suit jacket had ridden up, displaying his fantastic, pert arse. “Your main suite is extremely comfortable, thank you.”

She blushed, tutting self-deprecatingly. “Just glad to hear you’ve settled in well. You needing any breakfast this morning?”

He rounded the counter and sat a chair down from Bilbo, dainty teacup perched amusingly in his giant hands. “I don’t eat breakfast usually, too busy.”

“Well you’re not _too busy_ this morning, so you’ll be having breakfast and you’ll enjoy every bite.” He opened his mouth as if to object, but was silenced by a sharp look. “Just enjoy your tea and I’ll put together a quick bacon and egg roll for you, so if you need to rush off you can take it with you. Alright?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine.”

She turned her sights on Bilbo, squinting accusingly. “And I’m sure your pantry is empty after your trip, so I’ll be making you one as well.”

“Bell, really, I don’t-”

“-I won’t be hearing a no from you either, flower.”

Bilbo groaned, slumping in his chair. Hosting a B&B was a perfect role for Bell, she constantly ‘mother-henned’ anyone within her sights. She turned around, and started for the fridge, pulling out what she needed. He snuck a look at his forced breakfast companion, who was staring out the window, obviously ignoring him. _Well, this is going to be the most awkward second breakfast ever._

The stranger cleared his throat, making Bilbo turn and raise an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“What has you here this morning? I assume it’s not for a room.”

Bilbo scoffed, taking another sip of his tea. “Small talk? Really?” He sighed, putting his teacup down. “I have to take some stuffy politician around this morning, show him all the _exciting_ eco-friendly changes we’ve made around the village.”

The man leaned back in his chair, eyeing him keenly. “And what has this _stuffy politician_ got to do with Hobbiton?”

“No idea, I assume he’s just using us for a fluff piece for the Daily Mail. _‘Thorin Durin visits eco-village, makes plans for UK’s future’_ probably. We had another one here recently, a Smaug Azugâl. He just poked about for two days, talked to some of the farmers and left. Must have got what he wanted."

“Did you speak to him?” The man asked pointedly, his scowl deepening.

Bilbo was taken aback by his sharp tone, eyeing him curiously. “No, he just talked to the farmers out by the Party Tree. The farms out there are the biggest ones; most of the food for Hobbiton comes from them. Must have been something to do with that.”

The outsider scratched at his short beard, deep in thought.

“What has it to do with you anyway? I’m assuming you’re just down here from London to blow off some steam, have a week off, and assault a few villagers on the way?”

“It was you who ran into me _,_ _twice_ , if I recall correctly.”

He was about to argue with the suited stranger, but was interrupted by Bell placing a steaming egg and bacon roll in front of him, her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow at him. “Go on, best get some food into you Bilbo. I won’t be hearing any refusals from you, pet.” The stranger chuckled at Bell’s coddling, but earned himself a pointed glare from her also. “You too, love. I don’t care what you’re used to back in London, you’ll eat proper while you’re under my roof.”

He nodded and picked up his own roll, begrudgingly taking a first bite. “This is delicious, thank you."

“Of course it is, it’s the old Goodchild recipe, learnt it from me Nan. Now hurry up you two, you’ve got a big morning of sightseeing ahead of you.”

Bilbo choked on his mouthful, hitting his chest to get the food down. “He’s not coming. I already have to deal with one _suit_ today.”

She grinned at him icily, smile not reaching her eyes. “And he’s your _suit_ for the day, flower. If you’d introduced yourself as he walked in, you’d have worked that out.”

He froze, staring at her wide-eyed. “ _Fucking hell._ ”

Bell whipped him with her tea towel, scowling at him. “None of that language in this house, I won’t be having my Sam repeating any of that filth.” She straightened herself, placing the towel over one shoulder. “Now, I’ve had my fun hearing you make a tit out of yourself, how about you pull yourself together and use some of those manners your mother taught you.”

“Right.” He turned to Thorin, who was watching him amusedly whilst dabbing his mouth with a serviette. “My apologies, Mr Durin.”

He waved away the apology. “Thorin, please. You’ve already insulted me numerous times this morning, calling me _Mr Durin_ would be a touch too official, don’t you think?”

Bilbo blinked; mind running at a hundred miles per hour. How the hell was he going to live through this one. “Right. Yes. I’m Bilbo.”

Thorin smirked, fully aware of his companion’s distress. “Well, Bilbo, where can this _stuffy politician_ get a good coffee around here?”

He winced. “Ah, well, I run a Teahouse and cafe, actually. If you want, after our tour, I can make you one? I need to open shop at around 11, anyway.”

“Perfect.” Thorin stood, buttoning up the front of his suit jacket. “Do we need anything before we head off?”

“Uh, actually, I think you have my suitcase?”

Thorin’s smirk widened. “So you’re the avid love poem reader. If it hadn’t been for all the men’s shirts and trousers, I would have thought I had swapped suitcases with a lovesick teenager.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “It’s Keats and E.E. Cummings, _really_. Hardly as embarrassing as your battered copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Touché.”

A flushed Ori rushed into the room, Bilbo’s suitcase in tow. “Everything should be in here, I just repacked it tidily for you.”

“Ah, it was already packed tidily.” He looked up at Thorin pointedly. “Just how thoroughly did you go into my luggage?”

“Nice pink hair curler.”

Bilbo spluttered indignantly. “If you had bed head the likes of mine in the morning, you’d take a curler to tame that mane too, I can assure you… And it was the last one in the store, all the black ones were gone.” He added defensively.

“No need to explain your beauty choices to me, Master Baggins.” Thorin smirked.

Seeing her friend needed to be saved, Bell decided it was time for her to step in. “Enough of that, you two. You best be off, lots of places for Bilbo to show you.”

“Of course. Thank you again for breakfast, I’ll be back later today.” Thorin gestured towards the door and nodded at his tour guide. “After you."

“Right. Yes. Breakfast was lovely, Bell.” He kissed her on the cheek and walked outside, suitcase in tow.

Ori and Thorin followed, and as Bilbo rounded the corner to bring Myrtle into view, he heard Thorin halt in his steps. “There is no way in hell I’m getting in _that_.”

Bilbo turned, seeing Thorin grimacing and pointing at Myrtle, who was happily nibbling at a tuft of grass at the bass of the Willow she was attached to. He put one hand on his hip angrily, mustering as much authority as he could. “You’ll be getting into that wagon and you’re going to be nice to Myrtle, Thorin.”

Thorin glared down at him, squinting his eyes menacingly. “Fine.” He strode ahead, and grabbed the suitcase out of Bilbo’s grasp.

“Hey!”

“I’m just putting this in the back of the wagon, calm down.”

“I am quite able to do that myself!”

He looked down at Bilbo, suitcase already under one arm. “I’m taller.”

Bilbo groaned, rubbing his face tiredly with one hand. “Fine, fine. Lets just get on with the tour, then.” After Thorin had placed his suitcase at the back of the wagon, he untied Myrtle from the tree and led her around, now facing the house. After checking the harness and straps were in place, he hopped into his side of the front seat, eyeing Thorin mockingly. “Well?”

Thorin looked at the wagon then up at Bilbo. “Uhh…”

“You just step on the middle of the wheel, nothing too complex.”

“Right.” Thorin grabbed onto the side of the seat and pulled himself up far too eagerly, ending up half in Bilbo’s lap. He quickly fixed his position, finding himself squished next to the shorter man, thigh to thigh.

Bilbo coughed pointedly, trying to ignore Thorin’s radiating heat. “Come on Myrtle, let’s head off.” He urged her into action, settling into a comfortable trot. Ori walked by the side of the wagon, taking last minute notes from Thorin, who was talking at what Bilbo estimated was a hundred miles an hour.

“…And that should be all, Ori. I’ll call you if I think of anything else.” Thorin finished, Ori’s fingers racing on his iPhone.

“Of course, Thorin.” He put his phone away and smiled warmly up at Bilbo. “Have a lovely morning, you two.”

Bilbo grumbled in response, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Thorin. They headed out the front of the B&B and down the hill, towards Sandyman’s Mill, predominantly in silence; Bilbo pointing out the odd Hobbiton fact here and there.

“…most of the houses here run on solar power alone, why, Bag End has been off the grid for around five years now.”

“Bag End?”

A soft smile appeared on the younger mans face, as he looked across the field to his home. “My cottage, maybe you’ve seen it? It’s at the top of Bagshot Row.”

“With all the wildflowers on the roof?”

Bilbo’s smile widened. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? Been in the family for generations.”

Thorin’s expression remained unmoved. “If you’re into that sort of thing, I suppose.”

“What about yours, then? A penthouse flat somewhere in London, all chrome and glass?” He asked, thick with disapproval.

The politician sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “This going to be a habit of yours, making assumptions constantly?”

Bilbo grinned cheekily. “I’m right though, aren’t I?”

He sighed. “My flat in London does steer in a more… contemporary direction, but my old home in Erebor was a three hundred year-old castle. Also in the family for generations.”

“Please don’t tell me I’ve insulted an heir to the throne?”

Thorin chuckled, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Erebor hasn’t had its own Monarch in centuries, not to worry. My lineage is royal though, the last King of Erebor was my ancestor, Náin II.”

“Well, colour me impressed.” He replied sarcastically.

“I’m starting to think it will take quite an effort to impress you.”

Bilbo smiled up at him cheekily. “You’re trying to impress me now, are you?”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “You’re twisting my words.”

“Of course I am.” He teased, licking his lips casually, noticing how Thorin’s eyes were watching his mouth. “…But I have to ask, what did you mean by your ‘old home’. Did you all move out?”

He stilled, his expression transforming into an unreadable mask. “We haven’t lived there for some time.” Thorin replied, all too icily.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow up at him. “Fine, don’t tell me.” He sighed, slumping down in his seat. “Would you at least tell me why you’re here, then?”

“Not for a fluff piece for the Daily Mail, I can assure you.”

He let out an amused huff, instantly clearing the awkward air between them. “Are you going to answer anything directly this morning, or just dodge them all in such a… _political_ way?”

Thorin chuckled. “I’m running for PM, so Balin, my campaign manager, suggested I should meet some every-day Englishmen and suggested this village. The fact that you’re all so _environment-conscious_ is an added bonus.”

“Really? Because you seemed pretty interested when I brought up that Smaug Azugâl character.”

“The fact that he is also running for PM has nothing to do with my visit.”

Bilbo tutted, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it doesn’t.” He looked up at Thorin pointedly. “You know, us Hobbits don’t usually take kindly to strangers poking about our village, it would help if you told us why you were _really here_.”

He smirked. “Hobbits?”

“Out of that whole sentence, _that’s_ what you opted to focus on?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hobbiton… _Hobbits_. Get with the program, Thorin.”

“Apologies, it just caught me off guard. It’s rather… _endearing_. Suits you all.”

“Just get it over with. Yes, we’re all cute gardeners who prefer to spend a morning amongst our flowers and drinking tea, not running about in some concrete jungle on our mobiles, yelling, I don’t know, _shares_ at each other. You won’t be the first visitor to think us all so… _endearing_.”

“Do you really think so poorly of us in London?” He smirked, crossing his arms casually.

Bilbo sighed. “That’s not what I meant, Thorin. You really do have a talent for making me say the wrong things.”

“I’ll ensure to add it to my resume.” He replied, smirk widening.

 _Is Thorin… flirting with me? No, no way. All this fresh air must be getting to my head, after all that toxic city air for two weeks._ Bilbo coughed, cheeks blushing subtly. “Right. So that’s still a _no_ for a direct answer to my question?”

“Like I said, I’m just here to shake a few hands, take a tour around the village, and not make a fuss.” Thorin answered airily, checking the dirt under his nails.

Bilbo was not convinced one bit. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

They fell back into silence, Bilbo turning the conversation over in his mind.

 

\---

 

Myrtle rounded the corner and halted in front of Sandyman’s Mill, where Bilbo jumped down and straightened his jacket, and fetched a small basket from the back of the wagon. “I’m just getting some fresh bread for the Teahouse, did you want anything?”

“I’ll be fine, thanks.”

Bilbo nodded and headed inside, after tying Myrtle’s reigns to post by the Mill entrance. The front room was converted into a Bakery, with eggshell blue walls and a vintage white wooden counter at the opposite wall, displaying all the morning’s cakes and sweets. A portly old man, Old Sandyman, was behind the counter, flour in his grey hair, wearing a brown apron and fussing about the back wall display, moving the fresh loaves about in the various hung baskets. Bilbo coughed politely, making the older man turn around and beam over at him.

“Mr Bilbo, what a lovely surprise. I’m assumin’ you’re here for your usual?”

“Of course, only the best baked good for my Teahouse, as you already know.”

Sandyman waved away the compliment, smiling cheekily. “Now none of that, Mr Bilbo. None o’ your sweet talk will get you any more scones, you know that lad. I’ll be adding your usual to the Teahouse’s account, and in your basket there.”

Bilbo chuckled, putting his basket down on the counter in front of him. “I know, but it can’t hurt to try.”

He dusted his hands of flour and set about the small space behind the counter, gathering Bilbo’s things. “Anythin’ new to report? You know I always enjoy a good chinwag, everyone’s been gossiping about those Londoners who just arrived last night, have you met them yet?”

“I’m in the middle of taking one around on a tour now, actually.” He groaned.

Sandyman stood up and laughed heartily, clapping a floury hand on Bilbo’s navy shoulder. “You poor lad! What’s a businessman doing taking a tour from simple folk like us?”

“He’s a politician, actually. Says he wants to meet some ‘ _Everyday Englishmen’_.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically, making Sandyman laugh even louder.

“Well there’s definitely an excess of those here, isn’t there lad? Everyday Englishmen. _Really_.” He shook his head amusedly.

Bilbo leaned forward, lowering to a whisper. “Any chance you can ask around, see if anyone’s talked to the rest of his mates?”

Sandyman winked at him, leaning an elbow on the counter. “I have to do some rounds later, how about I ask around and pop in for a spot o’ tea later today, share me’ findings?”

“I knew your chattiness would come in handy one day.”

The older man held a hand to his chest dramatically, in mock offence. “Why Mr Bilbo how dare you, I don’t know whatever you’re insinuatin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. There’s a pot of free tea in it for you.”

“Done.” He leant forward and shook Bilbo’s hand, and went back to filling his order. “I have to pop in to visit Hamfast, I’m sure he’s overheard a thing or two while changin’ their sheets and fillin’ their stomachs.”

“How convenient.”

Sandyman hummed in agreement, putting the last loaf of sourdough into the basket. “Now off with you lad, you’ve got a tour to finish and I’ve bread to sell.”

Bilbo chuckled fondly, linking the basket under one elbow. “I’ll make sure I save one of my lemon cakes for you, then.”

“Enough buttering me up, lad, I said I’d help out.” He shooed him out of the room, opening the door for him. “I’ll catch up with you later, have fun with your _new friend.”_ Thorin looked over at them questioningly, catching Sandyman’s last words.

“Of course, Sandyman. Hope you have lots of business today.” He offered one last smile to the baker and walked over to Myrtle, putting his goods in the back of the wagon. Bilbo untied her and hefted himself back into his seat, taking the reins in hand.

Thorin eyed him pointedly, and gestured towards his left shoulder. “You’ve got some flour there…”

“Oh, right, thanks.” He dusted his shoulder uselessly, making Thorin roll his eyes and do the task himself, Bilbo sighing defeatedly under the unwanted attention. “Yes yes, that’s quite enough. No need to dislocate my shoulder.”

“You’re welcome.” Thorin said sarcastically, rolling his eyes once more.

Bilbo spurred Myrtle back into movement, heading back towards the centre of Hobbiton.

 

Oh yes, this was going to be a _brilliant_ morning.

 

 

\---

 

 

If you were interested, here's photo reference for Bilbo's cottage:

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: I'm an Australian Graphic Designer.  
> SO, pretty much, I know nothing about the UK or politics, so there may be some errors in here and I hope I don't offend anyone...
> 
> This fic is currently un-beta'd, so there may be some things I have missed, whoops.
> 
> Sidenote:  
> -Smaug’s last name, Azugâl, is Khuzdul for ‘fire-breather’... in case you were wondering.  
> -Bell Gamgee is totally Sarah Millican in my head, look up her standup on youtube, she's amazing.  
> -Yes, I’m playing around with Sam and Frodo’s age and the Gamgee family tree because plot...  
> -Also, I know Sandyman's Mill was originally for corn but I changed it to flour because damn Hobbits like their bread and scones.
> 
> Next chapter should be up within the week!


	2. Few Answers, More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo goes searching for answers about this 'Smaug' character,  
> Sandyman pops in for some tea,  
> And Bilbo has some more unexpected guests at his cottage.

Bilbo opened the Teahouse door with one hand, balancing the basket of baked goods in the other, and scooped up the mail at the doorstep. “Come in, come in. Mind the doorstep, its slightly raised.”

“Got it.” Thorin walked inside, looking around the dimly lit Teahouse curiously.

It was a converted cottage that was long and thin with hardwood floors, mismatched wallpaper and décor covering the walls in golds, maroons and wood. The antique furniture ranged from plush brocade lounges to polished wooden chairs, and two small chandeliers hung from the roof above. Yet despite its extravagant nature, the Teahouse still maintained the cosiness of home.

“It’s not much, but it’s mine.” Bilbo mused, now putting the items from the basket away in the vintage glass display case behind the counter. “Find a seat anywhere, I’ll make you a coffee in a moment.”

“Cheers.” Thorin sank into a deep purple couch near the counter, resting his elbows on the back of the lounge. He looked up at the chandelier above him, watching how the cut glass made the light dance on the walls, the delicate beads moving softly in the breeze. “This place is much nicer than I thought it would be, judging from its rundown exterior.”

Bilbo scoffed. “What a lovely compliment, I’m _so flattered_.”

“You know what I mean. It could use a little _refurbishment._ ” He rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly.

“This cottage is heritage listed, so there’s only so much I can do… but I quite like all the vines and missing stones, it gives the place character.”

Thorin grunted non-committedly. “I suppose.”

Bilbo stood in front of him, hands on hips. “So, a politician _and_ an architect? What other mysterious skills are hidden under that brooding exterior, hmm?” He enquired, voice thick with sarcasm.

“I can play an instrument.”

“That instrument being…”

“None of your business.” He smirked, folding his arms behind his head.

“Back to answer-dodging I see. How original.” Bilbo rolled his eyes and walked back behind the counter and started warming up the barista machine. “Could you at least tell me what sort of coffee you drink?”

“Double espresso, two sugars.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him over the silver machine. “You’re on holiday, you hardly need the caffeine hit.”

He shrugged. “I just like the flavour.”

“Thorin, nobody drinks straight espresso _for the flavour_.”

“I must be unique then.”

“Wow. If my eyes could roll further into the back of my head, they would.”

Thorin eyed him sceptically. “Is everything going to be a battle with you?”

Bilbo batted his eyelashes at him, utilising his sweetest smile. “I must be _unique_.”

 

\---

 

The lunch rush had hit and Bilbo was near the end of his rope, running frantically to and from customers and the kitchen area behind the counter. Having Drogo away was a bigger setback than he had initially thought; the two of them together could have handled a day like this easily and not broken a sweat.

“Just a moment, Rose, I’ll be with you in a jiffy.”

He sped past the cheery old woman at the counter, smiling apologetically as he balanced a pot of tea and three teacups in his arms, headed for a table at the other end of the room.

“Here you are, folks. Chamomile, three cups. Just let her brew for three minutes and she’ll be ready to drink.” He set the items down and ran back to Rose at the counter, who was smiling at him sweetly.

“Bet you’re missing Drogo right now, eh?” She asked cheerfully, elbows propped on the counter.

Bilbo wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “You have no idea. I might even have to hire someone for the next few weeks if it stays this bad.”

“You could probably borrow Old Sandyman’s boy for a week or two, put it past him? I’ve seen him helping around the bakery now and then, lad’s finished school and looking for a job I hear.”

“That might just be a good idea, actually.” He clapped his hands together, determined look in place. “But enough of that, let’s get you some tea. What are we after today?”

She bit her bottom lip, looking up at the chalk menu board beside him. “Just a ruby rosehip and some scones, please.” She offered him a ten-pound note and he pushed some buttons on the antique tin cash register, and handed her change back over.

“Just sit wherever, I’ll come and find you.”

Rose hovered at the counter, a cheeky smile blooming on her face. “Have you heard about that politician that’s settled here? Tolman Cotton told me that he’s an Italian chap, lots of money and the like. Might send my Lily in his direction, see if I can’t get me some fancy in-laws.”

Thorin coughed on his glass of water loudly, making Rose turn and eye him disapprovingly.

“My Lily is the finest lass in the village, young man. Just because we’re simple folk don’t mean we don’t make good wives for fancy suits like you.”

Bilbo bit his lip, trying to stifle his laugh as best he could. “I think he just choked on his water, dear. He wasn’t being rude, I don’t think.”

He nodded, hitting his chest roughly. “Water went down the wrong pipe, I meant no offence.”

She glared down at him, lips pursed. “Of course, dear.” Rose turned back to Bilbo, smile returning. “Also I hear he’s got a lovely sister, if you were looking to find yourself a well-off Italian also?”

Bilbo coughed awkwardly, seeing Thorin’s wide grin in the corner of his eye. “No Italians for me thanks, I’m quite happy as I am.”

“You’ve got to be careful Bilbo, you won’t be young and pretty forever. Soon you’ll have to settle down and find yourself a nice wife."

“I’m 35 Rose, I’m not ancient.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She tutted, shaking her head. “I already had three children by your age, lad. _I’m just saying_ , you can’t be a bachelor forever.”

“I can try.” He grinned cheekily, earning himself a fond slap on the arm from her.

“Fine, fine. I’ll lay off and let you get back to work.” She walked down the room to a table by the door, picking up a trashy magazine on the way. “And extra cream with the scones, be a dear.”

He shook his head, smiling fondly. “Old bat.”

Bilbo set about making the tea and scones, and had only just added the tealeaves to the pot when he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat at the counter. He continued what he was doing, back remaining turned. “Yes?”

“This _fancy Italian_ is off, I just wanted to say thank you for the coffee.”

“Watch out on your way back to the B&B, you don’t want to find yourself being kidnapped by an overzealous mother.” He turned to face Thorin, grinning mischievously. “Or should I just direct them to the Gamgee’s main suite, Hmm? I can even charge door entry, make some extra money.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, sighing. “Hilarious. You should go into stand-up, really.”

“Architectural opinions _and_ life coaching, well aren’t I spoilt rotten today.”

“I’ll send you the invoice tomorrow.” He said mockingly while he shoved his notebook in his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder. “Thankyou for your time this morning, I’ll be in touch if I need anything else from Hobbiton’s resident tour guide.”

“I eagerly await your call.” He replied sarcastically, mock-bowing.

“It was a _pleasure_ meeting you, Mister Baggins.” Thorin replied, sarcasm laid on just as thick.

“Yes, yes. You too. Now enough with the pleasantries, I have a business to run.” He waved Thorin towards the door pointedly. “And don’t run the Gamgee’s ragged, will you? They’re good people.”

“But how will I maintain my _fancy Italian_ façade?” He asked coyly, grinning.

“Off with you! Stop wasting my time, your charm won’t work here.” He tutted, arms crossed.

“Fine, I’m going…” He stood up, took a few steps down the room and turned around slowly, smirking. “I’ll call my sister, see if she’s interested in finding herself a nice country husband.”

“Thorin!”

He chuckled. “I promise to mention your _dazzling personality_.”

“Go!”

Thorin rolled his eyes and left, leaving a slightly flustered Bilbo in his wake. Trying to gather himself, he scurried back behind the barista machine and started cleaning the steam wand furiously with a plastic knife, muttering under his breath about bothersome suited men and how they needed to stop being so infuriating and distractingly handsome.

For the second time that day he missed the sound of approaching footsteps, too focused in his task, and had to be distracted from his grumblings by a piercing cough.

“Say Bilbo, who was that handsome lad?”

Bilbo snapped out of his musings and popped his head over the machine, greeted by the beaming smile of Old Sandyman. “Err who?”

Sandyman chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know who I mean, that suited fella who just moseyed on out of here.”

“Right. Ah, that was the Politician, actually.”

“That Thorin Durin fella?” He whistled sympathetically, rubbing the back of his neck. “Had a hard life, that one. I saw Hamfast on the way over, an’ he told me he overheard a big grizzly chap talkin’ to that Thorin lad about being forced out of his home or somethin’.”

He leaned forward over the barista machine, brow furrowed. “What do you mean _forced out_?”

“Hamfast said he heard em’ talking about some politician fella with a funny name, sounded like smog… or was it smell… I dunno, somethin’ _exotic_.”

Bilbo sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Smaug, yeah?”

“That’s the one! You heard of him?”

“He was here a few weeks back, actually… I mentioned the name to Thorin and he got all _broody.._. Well, more broody than usual.”

“I heard there were riots and everythin’, and people _died_ …” Sandyman leaned in closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You think we should be worried about this _Smaug_ character? If he kicked Thorin out of his home, what’s to say he won’t try it here?”

Bilbo shook his head. “I highly doubt it. Thorin lived in some grand castle, we’re simpler folk… I’m sure it was all just some misunderstanding.”

“I hope you’re right, Mister Bilbo. I’ve never trusted those business types from the city, can’t be too careful.” He tapped his nose conspiratorially, raising his eyebrows.

“And what would a politician want with Hobbiton, hmm? He going to steal all our recipes and sell cakes on the black market and become, I don’t know, _the muffin mafia_?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head fondly. “When you put it _that way_ …”

“Nobody is coming for Hobbiton, my dear Sandyman. You’ve been watching too many of those crime dramas late at night.”

Sandyman huffed indignantly, crossing his arms. “Have not...” Bilbo raised an eyebrow accusingly. “Fine, maybe I ‘ave. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see somethin’ fishy goin’ on here.”

“Nothing ever happens here, and you know it. The only _mystery_ in this village is whether we’ll have pink or lilac decorations for the Mother’s Day celebrations in a few days.”

“It’s lilac, my Eleanor’s doing the cakes.”

Bilbo walked around the counter and put an arm over his shoulder companionably. “And there we have it! No mystery in Hobbiton at all, my old friend.”

Sandyman grumbled to himself, clearly not convinced. “Never mind that, just watch yourself with that Thorin, lad. I still don’t trust him.”

“Trust me, there’s no budding friendship there. Not to worry.” The older man eyed him sceptically. “What! All we do is bicker, the man is utterly repugnant.”

“Of course, Mister Bilbo. Like I didn’t see him beamin’ as he walked out of here earlier. Now I know what you do behind closed doors is your business-” He lowered to a whisper. “-and you keep certain facts about yourself unknown to those who aren’t family and friends… but it’s been a while since you’ve been with anyone. Don’t let this Thorin fella get to you ‘cos you’re lonely.”

Bilbo groaned. “Not this from you too. One lot of relationship advice per day is about all I can take, Sandyman.” He released the older man and walked back behind the counter. “I’ve only just met the man, _who is a twat I might add_. And I’m not lonely.”

Sandyman held up his hands apologetically. “I didn’t mean no offence, Bilbo. Just lookin’ out for you is all.”

He ran his hand through his hair, sighing tiredly. “I know, I know. It’s just… running the Teahouse by myself all day has been rather stressful and I’m a bit snappy, sorry.”

“Anythin’ I can help out with?”

“Actually, I was wondering if your Ted was looking for any extra work? Just to help out around here while Drogo is looking after Prim and their new baby.”

“I’ll ask him when I get back home, but I’m sure my lad’ll say yes. Been askin’ for one of those new ‘ _my-pads’_ or whatever those things are, and I said to him he could save up and get one himself... means he might actually look after it proper and not break it.”

Bilbo winced. “Is he in a habit of breaking things or-”

“-No, no. He just needs to learn a little about responsibility, that’s all. Lad’s a proper hard worker in the bakery.”

“Right…”

Sandyman laughed awkwardly. “Pay me no mind, Bilbo. I’m always lettin’ me mouth run off without thinkin’ first. He’s a good lad, really, I wouldn’t say he could work here if I didn’t think he could handle it.”

“As long as you’re sure?”

“Positive.” He nodded eagerly, strawberry-blonde curls bobbing from the movement.

“Alright, then.” He picked up a spare napkin and a pen, and handed it over. “Write down his number and I’ll call him tomorrow, tell him to think about it tonight, yeah? I’m thinking… three or four days a week depending on how busy it is.”

“Sure thing, lad.” He took the napkin and pen eagerly, scribbling down the details.

“How about I make you that tea, then? I’ve got the lemon cakes aside for you, also.”

He handed the folded napkin over, beaming up at the younger man. “You’re too good to me lad, you know that?”

Bilbo put the number in his pocket, chuckling fondly. “Oh stop it, you fussy old Hobbit.” He waved him over to a table casually. “Just go put your feet up, I’ll be over soon with your afternoon tea."

“Music to my ears. Don’t know why you’re single, you smooth talker.” He winked cheekily, as he turned to sit down.

“I fear I’m just too intimidatingly attractive, you see.” He raised a hand to his brow melodramatically, earning himself a chuckle from Sandyman and a few of the eavesdropping patrons.

“Enough lolly-gagging, get started on that cake.”

“Yessir.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo collapsed face-first into his bed, utterly exhausted. He’d had rough days in the past, of course, but with the combined political tour and flying solo at the Teahouse, he had had quite enough of people for the day. After groaning into his pillow for a few minutes he rolled over and rubbed his eyes gingerly with the palms of his hands, seeing stars.

“Ugh, I never want to leave this bed ever again.” He kicked his oxfords off and peeled off his heavy jacket, throwing it haphazardly onto the couch at the opposite end of the room. “What a fucking _day_.”

He lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling and contemplating what to do with the rest of his evening. There was the issue of an empty pantry, which he was far too exhausted to deal with. He also had the Christmas decorations to put away… yet another task he couldn’t be bothered to undertake. Bilbo heaved a sigh, blinking heavily up at nothing, his lower back aching from overuse. Since when had he become so _old_?

“Takeout and telly. Done.” He muttered to himself, and rolled sideways out of bed. Eyes bleary and unfocussed, he tripped over the edge of his suitcase at the end of the bed and flew downwards onto his couch, cursing loudly.

“Bloody  _hell_ that hurt!” He rubbed his toe angrily, shooting daggers at the navy offender. “You’ve been nothing but trouble, you know!”

 _Oh fantastic_ , he thought sarcastically. _Now I’m talking to my fucking luggage._

Bilbo leant down and scrutinized the suitcase closely, only then noticing a small piece of cardboard jutting out of the top pocket. He plucked the card out, revealing another below it, and sat back in his chair, reading them both. One was a thankyou note from Ori, saying that it was lovely meeting him that day; and of his appreciation for taking Thorin out for the morning, Ori’s number scribbled on the back if he needed anything. The second was Thorin’s business card with his work details, and when Bilbo turned it over discovered another untidy message from Ori, containing Thorin’s personal mobile number ‘in case of emergencies’.

"And why in God's name would I need this for in an emergency?” He shrugged indifferently and whipped out his iPhone, adding the three new numbers from Ori and Ted Sandyman’s number from the napkin in his pocket.

He scrolled through his contacts for a few minutes, wondering which takeaway he would order for dinner. Deciding on pizza, he ordered his usual, and had a quick pleasant chat with the girl who was manning the phones. A minute into the conversation, Bilbo discovered she was in fact the daughter of one of his old classmates and was hit with the sudden, painful realization that he hadn’t really done anything with his life.

What a way to abruptly end a phone conversation- with a full-blown existential crisis.

After throwing his phone onto his bed Bilbo slumped down on the couch, feet outstretched, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle. “I’m really having a bit of a shocker today, aren’t I…” One of his mates had a fourteen year-old kid. _Fourteen_. And what did he have? A fussy pony, whose farts smelled like old cabbage. How uplifting.

Bilbo’s phone trilled, making him groan unenthusiastically and pull himself up and over to his bed. He collapsed forward on the bed heavily, propped himself up by his elbows, and read his text.

**BG: It was good seeing you this morning, flower. Make sure you get some proper food into you tonight and do come around again tomorrow for breakfast. I’ve something to show you x**

“Ugh, so much for that sleep-in tomorrow.” He sat up awkwardly, leaning his back against the headrest.

**BB: Sure thing, Belle. Any chance you could get that twat Thorin out of the house by the time I come by? Or am I pushing my luck?**

He chuckled down at his phone, awaiting what he knew would be a feisty reply. His phone beeped near-instantly, making his smile widen.

**BG: You’ll be nice to that fella or you’ll be getting a hiding from me.  
BG: Chose your next words wisely, pet.**

**BB: Your demands are cruel but fair. Done.**

**BG: Not so hard, was it now.  
BG: And bring some of your nice tea, will you?**

**BB: Done.**

**BG: Lovely.  
BG: Promise me you’re eating something with vegetables in it for dinner**

**BB: Pizza…**

**BG: Please tell me you’re joking**

**BB: According to Congress, it’s a vegetable in America.**

**BG: Christ almighty.**

**\---**

 

Bilbo’s phone rang down by his foot on the bed, making Bilbo snap out of his daze whilst reading a book on wildflowers. He sat up and reached down the bed, accepting the call just in time.

“Bilbo speaking.”

“Bilbo! So good to hear your voice!”

He chucked into the speaker, resting back onto the bed. “Drogo! How’s our Prim doing? She had the baby yet?”

“Over an hour ago. I’m just doing the rounds now, calling everyone to tell them how we’re doing.” Drogo laughed breathlessly, his exhaustion painfully apparent.

“And how _are_ you doing?”

Drogo whistled tiredly. “Prim and the lad are doing well, she’s having a nap in the next room. He’s nice and healthy, got big blue eyes like his mother. We decided on Frodo, something nice and traditional.”

“That’s a lovely name, Drogo.” He folded his arms behind his head, balancing the phone on his face. “I was thinking of visiting you two tomorrow afternoon, if that’s alright?"

“It would be great to see you, it’s been too long.”

He hummed in agreement. “It really has. I know I was only away for two weeks, but after seeing you nearly every day for two years, it feels like forever.”

“About that… I’m really sorry you had to come home early, if Prim and I knew-”

“-Stop right there, Drogo. This was surprise for us all, and Prim and the baby are both happy and healthy. Don’t apologise, please.”

Drogo groaned, Bilbo hearing him pacing around in the background noise of the call. “I still feel bad, Bilbo. And now you’ve got to run the place alone and-”

“-Will I have to interrupt you this whole call? Drogo. Honestly. It’s fine. Sandyman’s boy, Ted, is going to help out at the Teahouse till you get back, there’s no rush. And when you _do_ come back, you can start off doing half days until you feel comfortable with leaving Prim alone with Frodo. ”

“But Bilbo, what about all the orders and-”

“-Drogo, you fusspot! Trust me, I have this all under control. All you have to worry about is looking after Prim and Frodo, alright?”

“You’ll call me if something cocks up, promise?”

Bilbo chuckled. “I promise.”

Drogo let out a long sigh. “Good. Now I’m sorry but I have to go and call all fifty other members of our ridiculous family. Phone’s been ringing off the hook all day, nurses nearly confiscated the damn thing.”

The doorbell rung downstairs, followed by three loud knocks. “And there’s someone at my door, I have to be off too. Give my love to Prim and get some rest, yeah?” Bilbo climbed out of his bed hurriedly, and made his way for the staircase.

“Yes, yes. I’ll see you tomorrow. Be a sport and bring some cakes or something? Food here is damn awful.”

“I’ll bring your favourites. See you tomorrow, mate.”

“Bye!”

Bilbo rung off, put his phone in his shirt pocket and scuttled towards the front door, the bell ringing again. “Coming!” He heaved the door open and was greeted by the pizza deliveryman with a curt nod. “Sorry about that, had to run from upstairs.”

“No problem. Sixteen Pounds, yeah?”

He gave the man his money, took the pizza and garlic bread in one arm, and exchanged brief pleasantries before closing the door behind himself. The mouth-watering smell of the tandoori chicken pizza and garlic bread wafted upwards, making him rush to the kitchen to dish-up his dinner.

“Christ, I am starving!” Bilbo pulled out a plate and dished up two slices, leaving the pizza box on the countertop. He took a bite and moaned in delight, eyes rolling back in his head. “Damn this is _good_.”

_-Knock knock-_

“This better be the delivery guy with a fucking receipt or something.” He muttered grumpily to himself, as he wiped his mouth with a serviette and went to open the door.

_-Knock! Knock! Knock!-_

“Yes! Just wait a second, will you!” He opened the door aggressively, hand on one hip and a deep scowl in place, but as soon as he saw who was at his door his annoyed demeanour faded instantly.

The man on his doorstep was positively the most threatening, intimidating man he had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. He towered over Bilbo, with geometric tattoos all over his bald head and muscular forearms, and had dark bushy eyebrows, a wild beard and a dangerous look in his eye. The stranger wore a black shirt rolled up to the elbows, charcoal trousers with a black leather belt and shiny black leather shoes. Everything about him screamed ‘hired muscle’. If he wanted to he could have easily snapped Bilbo in half, using just his pinkie finger.

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet. “I, uh, can I help you?”

He looked over Bilbo distastefully, raising an eyebrow amusedly at his fluffy red slippers. “I just need a minute of your time, Mister Baggins.”

His rough, Scottish accent only added to his terrifying demeanour, making Bilbo tighten his grip on the doorframe. “W-Well that’s all fine and good, but I have no idea who you are and until I do, you are not setting foot in this here house.” He tried to sound as intimidating as possible, but his quavering voice gave him away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop this man entering his home, if he so chose to, and they both knew it.

“Dwalin Fundinson, head of security for Mister Durin while he’s here in Hobbiton.”

Bilbo rubbed his face tiredly, leaning back on the doorframe. ‘If I hear that fucking name one more time today, I swear I’m going to lose it.”

Dwalin chuckled, the deep rumbling sound catching Bilbo completely off guard. “Aye, lad. But can you at least save the theatrics till I’m gone? We’re going to have to talk about him eventually.”

“Can this get postponed at all? I just sat down for dinner, you see.” He motioned behind himself, making his unwanted visitor peer curiously over his shoulder inside the cottage.

“I can talk as you finish your wee meal.”

“Oh for _Christ's sa_ \- fine.” He threw his hands in the air defeatedly. “Fine, come in, I can tell there’s nothing I can say to change your mind.”

“I appreciate your co-operation.”

Bilbo eyed him incredulously. “You’re a guest, now. No need to be so formal.” He beckoned him inside and closed the door behind the burly man, leading him to the kitchen. “It’s just pizza, want a slice?”

“If you’re sure?” He sat on a stool by the kitchen island, looking ridiculous perched on the decorative antique metalwork.

“I’m hardly going to fit in an entire large pizza, am I?” He held up his hand. “Wait, don’t answer that.” Bilbo fetched an extra plate and placed it in front of his guest, gesturing for him to take what he wanted.

“My thanks.”

He took a bite of his lukewarm pizza, eyeing the strange man keenly. They sat in silence for a while, both polishing off the pizza and garlic bread together.

Bilbo leaned back on his stool, patting his stomach happily. “Not that I don’t enjoy visitors as much as the next Hobbit, but… ah. Why are you here?”

Dwalin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and finished off his mouthful of garlic bread. “Need to do a background check, make sure you’re alright.” He replied nonchalantly, crumbs caught in his whiskers much to Bilbo’s distaste.

“ _Background check!_ This is Hobbiton, my dear fellow.” He spluttered indignantly, crossing his arms huffily at his chest.

“I don’t care _where_ you’re from, lad. All I care about is that Mister Durin stays in one piece.”

“So you eat my food and _interrogate me_. Just brilliant. Somehow I feel like I’ve got the short end of the stick here.”

Dwalin leaned forward menacingly. “You’ll answer my questions and you’ll answer them truthfully, laddie.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “Just get it over and done with, enough of the ‘bad cop’ routine, _please_.”

“Fine.” He pulled out an iPhone from his pocket and set it down between them, clearly recording the conversation. “This is all off the record, I’ll only use this to take notes from when I get back to my laptop, and then delete it. Are you comfortable with this?”

“Yes, yes. Get on with it.”

“Alright. Do you have any criminal history, or priors that I should know about?”

He smirked. “The most illegal thing I have ever done is scrumping, back when I was at school. Next question.”

“Do you have any people in your life that would take _advantage_ of your relationship with Mister Durin? Such as revengeful exes, people who you owe money, etcetera.”

“Relationship! I’ve only known the damned man since last night, we’re hardly _best friends_.”

Dwalin growled. “Answer the question, Mister Baggins.”

“For Gods sake! No, I don’t know anyone that would do anything like that.”

“Okay. Now, are there any incriminating documents or photos on the internet that could tarnish your relationship with Mister Durin?”

“I was _one_  tour! For fuck’s sake!” Bilbo slipped out of his stool and started pacing around the kitchen angrily. “If I had known spending two hours with Thorin this morning would be such a bloody nuisance, I would have never said yes.” He glared up at Dwalin, who was watching him amusedly. “Is this really necessary, honestly.”

“Mister Durin may need to consult you again about Hobbiton related issues, and there is a chance the media could get wind of this and look into your background themselves. We need to ensure they won’t use any of it to hinder his chance at PM.”

“This is a  _joke_.”

“I can assure you, this is no joke.” Dwalin warned, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “Now answer the bloody question.”

“No, there is nothing incriminating about me on the internet, or anywhere, for that matter.”

“Good. Have you ever been linked with any extremist groups or terrorist organisations?”

Bilbo laughed raucously, making Dwalin’s scowl deepen. “Wow. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine ever being asked that question. I live in a small country town, Christ.”

“Could you please just give me a straightforward answer for once, not a running commentary?”

“Alright, no need to get all huffy. No, I have never associated with those types.”

“There we go, not so hard was it now. How about something simple? Your education and work history.”

“Right, okay. So I went to Bywater Primary, Bree Secondary College and my English Literature Bachelor with Honours at the University of Surrey. Worked in small café’s and restaurants till I bought my own Teahouse, and I’ve been running that with my cousin Drogo for around two years now.”

“Family?”

“Parents both dead for some time, and a ridiculous amount of family and in-laws.”

“Right.” Dwalin coughed uncomfortably, shifting in his seat.

Bilbo sighed. “They’ve been gone for nearly ten years, no need to get awkward about it.”

“You must have been, what, twenty? Must have been hard.”

He eyed him incredulously. “Are we seriously talking about my dead parents right now.”

“Sorry for saying anything.” Dwalin rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

“It’s fine, it’s just been so long that nobody talks about it anymore... And I was 25, for the record. Any more questions?”

“This is a rather personal one, and I’d appreciate your absolute honesty. We just need to know so as to prepare for any possible media backlash.”

“ _Media backlash!”_ Bilbo hollered incredulously.

“Let me ask the question, please. You must understand, if the media come here and start asking around after Mister Durin, people are going to mention your name. It is quite possible that your name could even be mentioned in the papers. People from your past may come forward.”

Bilbo groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. “Are you asking me about my sexual history, Mister Fundinson.”

“I’m afraid I am, laddie.”

“Fucking hell.” He walked over to a glass cabinet and pulled out two crystal tumblers, placed them on the kitchen island between him and Dwalin, and fetched his best whiskey from the lounge room. “Are you positively sure you need to know all this… personal stuff.”

“This _personal stuff_ is what the media will be digging up. We need to be prepared.”

He filled his glass and Dwalin’s, and took a fortifying sip. “As long as you’re going to delete this recording after.”

“You have my word.”

“Right. So, nothing in school. James Silver in university, man was an absolute twat. Emotionally manipulated me, made comments about my weight, blah blah. Dumped him just after I received my honours. And before you ask, no he won’t say or do anything... Ah, and nobody really since.”

“Are you absolutely sure he won’t do anything? Does he have any… pictures or videos of you two together?”

Bilbo blushed bright red, and took another long sip from his glass. “He had one… photo, but it was on his old phone. I’m sure he deleted it, it was an age ago. But this is all ridiculous! I only met Thorin last night, and I haven’t even agreed to become his _Hobbiton Correspondent_ or whatever you want to call it.”

“I’ll get our social media tech-whizz to keep an eye on him, not to worry.”

“That is really not necessary!”

“I’m afraid it is, laddie. If that photo was ever leaked and the media heard that you and Mister Durin were working together, it would be devastating.”

“This is a nightmare.” Bilbo sat back on his stool, head in his hands. “When did my life become so bloody complicated.”

Dwalin chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. “It’s not all that bad, Mister Baggins. You’ve checked out quite well so far. Except for that James bastard, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks for calling him a bastard... Nevertheless, I know he won’t do anything.”

“Yes, well. You can’t always be sure, when it comes to the media and money.”

Bilbo looked up at him, chin resting in his hands. “Is there anything else I should be worried about-”

_-knock knock-_

Bilbo groaned, sliding off the stool. “I’ll be back in a moment, hold that thought.” He took another sip of whiskey and padded towards the door. “Coming!”

He pulled the front door open and was greeted by a beaming, portly and short elderly man, with a long white beard and long hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. He was dressed in a sharp navy pinstriped suit, with a cashmere blood-red scarf and golden pocket watch in his vest pocket.

“Mister Bilbo Baggins, I presume?”

Bilbo tied his dressing gown around himself tighter, now rather self-conscious about his state of undress. “Yes, I’m sorry I’m not better dressed. I fear I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

The older man chuckled warmly. “It’s no problem laddie, that’s what happens when you appear unannounced. I’m Balin Fundinson, Campaign Manager for Thorin Durin.”

“Fundinson, as in brother of Dwalin Fundinson?”

“He here already? We were meant to talk to you together, laddie.”

“Yes, well, he’s eaten half of my dinner and started drinking all my whiskey.”

Balin tutted fondly, shaking his head. “Hope he hasn’t asked you anything too improper, he does get carried away with the whole _security_ _role_ now and then.”

“We just touched on the fun topic of sexual history, actually.”

The older man groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am so sorry, laddie. I fear when it comes to meeting new people, my brother lacks any tact.”

“It needed to be asked and you know it!” Dwalin hollered from the kitchen, the clinking of glassware indicating he was starting his second round.

Bilbo opened the door wider, gesturing for his new guest to enter. “I suppose it’s time to get this interrogation into full swing. Shall we?”

 

\---

 

Bilbo clumsily filled what he thought was his fifth glass of Whiskey that night, his frustratingly low tolerance to alcohol making him a bit chummier with his new guests than he would have usually been with people he had just met. The night had surprisingly turned from an interrogation into a pleasant storytelling session, where Balin was in the middle of telling a rather amusing tale about one of the many compromising positions Fili and Kili had been found in, the morning after one of their rough nights out.

“…and, no word of a lie, I walked into their bedroom and found two goats, three ducks and a llama sleeping on their beds, all wearing party hats, and the boys were nowhere to be found. After looking about for a while, I found them both passed out in the bathtub together, still in their tuxedoes.”

The three roared with laughter, Dwalin slapping the table heartily.

Bilbo wiped away a tear, trying to catch his breath. “Gandalf said they were troublesome, but I had no idea they were that bad.”

Balin laughed fondly. “Gandalf was always fond of the boys, taught them how to juggle when they were only wee lads.”

“Wait, you know Gandalf?"

Dwalin nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Aye. He’s been our friend for some time now.”

“And you met him _how_ exactly?

They looked at each other carefully, as if they were having a conversation with eyebrows and head-tilts alone. Balin cleared his throat, and finished off his glass of whiskey. “He helped us when we left Erebor, some time ago.”

“But he’s just a travelling salesman…” Bilbo shook his head, trying to think clearly through the effects of the alcohol. “Wait, I need to ask something. Has any of that got to do with Smaug?” Dwalin and Balin shot each other another secretive look, frustrating Bilbo to no end. “Fucking hell, _can I please have a straight answer_!”

Balin sighed heavily. “Smaug did have a part to play in our forced eviction, yes.”

“And should us Hobbits be worried that he was here a few weeks ago, looking around?”

The brothers shared a third secretive look, sending Bilbo over the edge.

“For God’s sake! This may just be an election campaign for you, but for us this is our _home_.”

Dwalin growled at him dangerously. “You have no idea what Smaug has taken from us.”

“ _Then tell me!”_

Balin put a hand on his brother’s shoulder softly, calming him down. “We don’t want to burden you with our affairs, Mister Bilbo. Just know that he’s a dangerous man and shouldn’t be trusted.”

“I don’t mean to pry, it’s just… I don’t know what I would do if Hobbiton was ruined. And from reading between the lines tonight, that’s exactly what that Smaug character did to your home.” He looked at them searchingly. “And if he did destroy your home, how did he get away with it!”

Dwalin gulped the rest of his drink down, looking at Bilbo darkly. “Those with power often use it to their own ends, laddie. The world is a wild place, not like here for you simple folk.”

“That is not an answer!” Bilbo threw his hands in the air, giving up. “Fine, don’t tell me. Just know this: if anything happens to Hobbiton and you could have stopped it, it’s on your heads.”

“We would tell you more if we could, laddie.” Balin offered apologetically, as he stood up slowly from the bench. “But we must be off, I fear. It’s getting quite late and we have to give our report to Thorin.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, relating all the information about me and my scandalous backstory.”

Balin chuckled, patting him on the back fondly. “You passed with flying colours, not to worry.”

He eyed them shrewdly. “Sure.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, laddie. We’ll see ourselves out, and I expect we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

“Try to get back to the B&B in one piece, yeah?”

“Of course, of course. Thanks again.”

The brothers waddled out of the room slowly, their movements inhibited by the rich Whiskey. After hearing the front door close behind them, Bilbo padded over to the lounge room and slumped down on the couch, glass and bottle of whiskey in hand.

He poured himself another glass and gulped down a mouthful, staring into the fireplace.

“So this is my life now. Brilliant.”

 

\---

 

A quick manip I made of Bilbo and Thorin at the Teahouse:

And photo reference for the exterior of the Teahouse:

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kinda messed about with the Baggins family tree here, and have put Drogo as a first cousin.
> 
> I hope you're enjoying the photo reference, if not, I apologise.  
> I seem to get around some scenes better in my head when I make them in Photoshop.
> 
> This fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies.


	3. A Hangover to Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo is rather groggy this morning after last night's activities,  
> Breakfast is had at the B&B,  
> And Thorin and Bilbo have a little 'chat'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIFE UPDATE:
> 
> Oh God I am so sorry it has taken me so long to upload another chapter!!  
> I just got a new full-time job in the City and it has been sooo hectic, Christ.
> 
> But not to fear, it's all calmed down now, and hopefully the next chapter won't be as far away!
> 
> Sorry again about the delay!

Bilbo rolled over in his bed and slammed down on the top of his alarm clock heavily, silencing it’s wailing swiftly, and let out a bedraggled moan. He hadn’t had that much to drink in a long while, and he was reminded painfully why that was as he rolled back onto his belly, covering his head with his pillow and shielding his eyes from the piercing morning light.

It was the awful mornings that did it, that really made him regret getting too far into his drink. Nothing really said ‘welcome to today!’ like a dry, sock-tasting mouth and a throbbing headache.

He lay in bed for another ten minutes, deliberating just how long he could get away with remaining in bed before he had to start rushing about, and start his day.

“Bloody  _hell_.” He groaned raggedly, as he delicately sat up and swung his feet over the side of his bed. Bilbo took his head in his hands, massaging his temples as he winced with the new vertical position, his head spinning.

Slowly and carefully, Bilbo stood up and gripped his bedside table like it was his lifeline, knuckles white and knees swaying. He hadn’t been _this_ delicate in a very long time, the thorough embarrassment of Dwalin’s interrogation the previous night spurring him on to drink the awkwardness away.

_The interrogation._

Bilbo moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How on earth am I going to look that twat in the eye today, _Christ.._.”

He took a hesitant step, slipped his iPhone in his pyjama bottoms’ pocket, and hobbled his way to the bedroom door, making a beeline for the kitchen. “God, I need a coffee right now.” Bilbo opened the door to the hallway slowly, leaning heavily on the handle.

The hallway was startlingly bright with the morning sun, making him wince audibly and cover his eyes. “Fucking hell!” He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the blinding light.

Squinting his eyes, Bilbo observed his dishevelled reflection in the floor length hallway mirror. His hair was a mess, the auburn curls at near-Einstein height and magnitude, poking up and out in all directions. Bilbo’s eyes were bloodshot with dark circles under them; his ginger stubble had started to become visible, making him look rather unwashed and dirty; and his maroon pyjama bottoms were hanging rather low on his hips, his small, soft belly hanging over the top of the trousers’ elastic.

Shirtless, hungover and unwashed. What a lovely picture he painted his morning.

Bilbo groaned at the figure before him and crossed the hallway, heading down the staircase towards the lower floor, gripping the rail eagerly to make up for his lack of balance.

His message tone sounded, making him curse under his breath as he fetched it from his pyjama trousers pocket. Bilbo swiped it unlocked slowly, leaning heavily against the kitchen doorway with his shoulder, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

**BG: I’m still expecting you this morning, pet. No matter how much you had to drink last night.**

Bilbo groaned. He had completely forgotten about visiting Belle and it was possibly the last thing he felt like doing so early this morning. Especially if there was any chance of running into Thorin in his fragile, hungover state. He needed to be as sharp as possible around that git, ready with a snarky comeback at the drop of a hat.

He dragged his feet over to the kitchen counter and turned on his espresso machine, resting his elbows heavily on the marble surface beside it. His phone sounded again, stirring him out of his dreamlike state.

**BG: I mean it. You’ve put old Balin and Dwalin in a right state, they woke us all up at 3am when they came home with their drunken wailing. Or singing. Whatever you want to call it.**

**BB: I’ll be there.**

**BG: Well, someone’s talkative today…**

**BB: I think I may be dead.**

**BG: Texting me beyond the grave, are we? Aren’t I impressed.**

**BB: Hilarious. Let me shower and I’ll be over within the hour.**

**BG: Don’t forget the tea. And drink lots of water.  
**

**BB: Yes, mum.**

**BG: Watch it now, flower.  
BG: See you at nine.**

Bilbo made himself a strong, sugary long black and sipped tentatively at his mug, unsure if his stomach was ready to handle any liquids as yet. He sniffed under one arm curiously and recoiled audibly, the sharp smell catching him off guard. “Definitely time for a shower.”

He looked down at his mug and then back up the hallway, towards the staircase to his bedroom.

“Time to multitask, I think.”

 

\---

 

After topping up his mug with another strong shot of espresso, Bilbo slowly made his way back upstairs to his bedroom; where he pulled down his pyjama bottoms and pants awkwardly with one hand as he sipped his coffee with the other, looking like an unbalanced, caffeine-addicted flamingo at the task as he balanced on one foot.

He padded barefoot over to the adjoining ensuite and leaned heavily against the tiled wall as he waited for the shower to heat up, gripping the mug in both hands; the steam from the shower slowly starting to warm the large room.

Once he was happy with the water temperature, Bilbo angled the showerhead directly towards the floor, and placed his coffee mug safely against the opposite wall of the shower, out of the way. He carefully stepped inside the shower and slid slowly down the tiled wall, ending up sitting on the floor, hips to toes under the warm water stream, as his torso remained untouched by the spray.

Bilbo took another sip of his coffee eagerly, the warmth spreading down his chest. He looked down at himself and laughed dryly, what a sight he made. Hungover as all hell, hair a mess, sitting on the shower floor and drinking coffee. His mother would be so proud.

Time passed slowly and in a haze, making him feel alien in his skin. Being hungover always made him feel slightly out of his body, the minutes passing him at a glacial pace.

He finished his coffee and started his usual morning routine, and began washing his hair with the coconut smelling shampoo and conditioner he was addicted to. Still seated on the floor, he reached up and fetched his body wash and facial cleanser, and got to the task of returning himself to decent human-smelling standards, not enjoying reeking of whiskey and stale pizza in the slightest.

Once showered, shaved and dressed, Bilbo started feeling like himself again. He checked his phone, sent a quick text to Belle telling her that he was on his way, and strolled downstairs to fetch some tea to bring over that morning.

It was a warmer morning than usual, so Bilbo chose a fresh fruity green tea to take over, so the option to serve it iced was there. He popped the tin canister into his leather satchel, locked up the cottage and made his way out the front gate, and headed for the B&B.

His hangover started lifting in the fresh country air, raising his spirits. Oh yes, this would turn out to be a lovely morning, just as long as that Thorin twat stayed out of his way.

 

\---

 

“Belle?”

“In here, flower!”

Bilbo rounded the corner and walked into the kitchen, greeted by Belle’s beaming smile. He pulled the tea canister out of his bag and placed it on the counter between them, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “And your tea, my lady.”

Belle clapped her hands together eagerly. “Oh fantastic, a green tea. I haven’t tried that setting yet.”

“Setting?”

She giggled excitedly, taking the tea in hand and opened it, sniffing its contents. “Yes, love. Got myself a fancy new kettle, I did. Brews the tea and everything, even takes the leaves out!”

Bilbo groaned. “You brought me here at nine am, hungover as fuck, to test out a new _kettle_.”

“Oi!” She slapped his shoulder, and then crossed her arms huffily. “I thought I told you to watch your language in this house, with my young Sam walking about!”

“Fine.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly with the palms of his hands. “This better be a _freaking_ impressive kettle-”

“-It really is, she wouldn’t shut up about it all last night.”

Bilbo spun around, met with the impish smile of a dark-haired chap, someone he found strangely familiar. The younger man was rather handsome, taller and more muscular than him, and was much to Bilbo’s horror, rather shirtless. He coughed awkwardly, not used to strangers being so comfortable with their near-nakedness around him, and stared at the man’s feet, unsure where to look.

“Aah Kili, good to see you’ve finally woken up and joined us.” Belle said fondly, gesturing the young man to join them at the kitchen counter.

“It’s not me you should be worried about, my useless brother was still asleep when I left my room-”

“-And if you hadn’t been snoring the house down, maybe I wouldn’t have had to sleep in.”

Another young man walked in, this time with long, messy blonde hair. Bilbo coughed awkwardly again, his cheeks reddening at the sight of yet another rather handsome and fit man walking about the kitchen, casually shirtless, his navy pyjama bottoms hanging rather dangerously low on his hips, revealing a small tuft of blonde hair at the top of his trouser elastic.

Hungover, and not knowing where to look. This morning was a bloody disaster.

Kili elbowed his brother companionably in the ribs, making him chuckle softly. “I’m not that bad...”

His brother rolled his eyes, sighing loudly. “You’re a fucking menace and you know it.”

Belle whipped them both with a kitchen towel, scowling up at them, hands on hips. “ _Boys!_ I said, no swearing in this here house!”

They both had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, Belle.” Kili offered, utilising his best puppy-dog eyes.

She rolled her eyes in response, tutting. “Those doe eyes won’t do you any good here, pet. Just keep your dirty words to yourself, yes?”

“Yes, Mrs Gamgee.”

Bilbo stifled a chuckle behind one hand, thoroughly amused by the childish display in front of him. The brothers had to be in their early twenties, but at one sharp look from Belle they were easily reduced back to tweenhood.

The blonde haired brother turned and looked down at him interestedly, crossing his arms. “And who might this be, now?”

He coughed uncomfortably, looking at Belle pleadingly. “Uh… Bilbo Baggins, I live just up the road.”

Kili piped up at that, peering down at him over his brother’s shoulder. “You the one who took Uncle around yesterday?”

“Yes…”

“Brilliant!” The blonde pulled him into a handshake enthusiastically, shaking the shorter man roughly. “I’m Fili and, as you heard earlier, this is Kili. We’re here visiting with Uncle, making sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble-”

“-It’s the other way round and you know it, laddie” Dwalin entered the room loudly, his heavy footsteps echoing in the small kitchen.

Fili beamed up at him. “Perhaps…”

Kili sauntered over to Bilbo and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, making the shorter man let out a startled yelp. “I mean, look at how attractive the locals are, got to make sure Uncle keeps his hands to himself.” He pulled his arm tighter around the blushing man, ignoring his self-deprecating noises. “And so modest, Fee. Lucky for me, it’s a small town and I don’t have much competition.”

Bilbo had no idea what to do in the situation, having someone fawn over him was a sadly rare occurrence. He choked on his tongue, feeling his cheeks redden increasingly by the second.

“You’ll be keeping your hands to yourself, lad. Or do you want me to remind ye what happened last time you charmed a village local with your pretty smiles?” Dwalin warned, raising a bushy eyebrow threateningly.

Kili blushed right red and made a choking sound at the back of his throat, withdrawing from Bilbo, muttering apologies under his breath. “Right. That.”

Fili burst into laughter at the sight of his backpedalling brother. “Oh man, I can’t believe I forgot about Keira!” He took in a pained breath between laughs. “You walked straight into that one, Kee.”

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up. Very funny.” Kili grumbled, crossing his arms as he leant against the opposing wall. “That interview she did for Heat was positively _hilarious._ ”

Bilbo took in a gasp and stared at them both, only just realizing whom the two troublemakers were. “Oh my god, you’re the _Party Princes_.”

Dwalin groaned exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. “Christ almighty, don’t tell me you’re a _fan_. I thought we left all those lonely spinster types back in London.”

“A _fan_?” He scowled up at the taller man, stepped forward and poked him hard in the chest. “Honestly. I’d be less worrying about me knowing who they are, and more worried about keeping them in line and doing your job as head of security, I should imagine.”

Fili and Kili gawped at the display before them, looking at each other like Christmas had come early.

“I know how to do my job, lad.” Dwalin strained out as politely as he could muster, through gritted teeth.

“Of course, such a strenuous job, interrogating anyone who comes within a 3-foot radius of your _pretty politician.”_ He heard a low chuckle from behind him and winced, knowing exactly who had just walked into the room.

“So I’m _pretty_ now, am I?”

Bilbo groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. “Oh for fucks sake-”

_“-Bilbo!”_

“Yes, sorry Belle.” He turned and looked over at Thorin, who was looking far too amused by the whole situation. “I swear to God, you must have a _flipping_ radar or something that goes off just as I’m about to say something about you, and make a tit out of myself.”

“I have been told before of my impeccable timing.” He strolled casually into the room, ruffling Kili’s hair fondly as he walked past to make himself some tea.

“Here, I’ll do that for you, pet. You just sit and have a nice chat, I’ll bring it over.” Belle took the teacup out of his hand and pushed him gently towards the stools, then went about making tea.

“My thanks.” He sat on the stool, leaning back and resting his elbows on the table behind him. “So, Dwalin. Any particular reason you’ve got our Hobbit all riled up?”

“Nothin’ really, jus-”

“-Just your _hired muscle_ not knowing when to hold his tongue.” Bilbo interrupted rudely, glaring up at Thorin.

 _“Hired Muscle!”_ Dwalin rolled his shoulders threateningly. “Thorin and I have known each other since we were wee lads, and haven’t been apart since-”

“-Enough, Dwalin.” Thorin gestured for him to be calm, shooting him a look that Bilbo couldn’t decipher, but seemed to instantly placate the man. “I understand that Dwalin may have been a touch… untoward last night when he visited you, but you must understand that I see him as family; he is not just an employee of minemand deserves your respect.”

Bilbo put his hands on his hips, his glare remaining intact. “I will award as much respect as I have been given, Mr Durin. I fear I just don’t respond well to being taunted.”

Thorin chuckled softly, a smile playing around the sides of his lips. “Yes, I know.”

Kili and Fili eyed each other warily, sending each other a ‘what the fuck is going on’ look.

“Also, the security check really was unnecessary, Thorin. I mean _really_. It’s _Hobbiton_.”

“Are you complaining about the questions, or your hangover this morning? Because I must say, you look a tad worse for wear.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. Yes, let’s make a joke about how your Head of Security and Campaign Manager interrogated me and nearly drank my pantry dry.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed. “And you will be repaid immediately for what they consumed, I apologise for their behaviour.”

“It’s fine, Thorin. I don’t want your money. I have more than enough wine in my cellar to last me for a while.”

“No, I have done you a disservice. Someone will be around later to repay you.”

“Are you listening!” Bilbo laughed dryly, rubbing his forehead. “Thorin. It’s fine. I would just like a warning next time before any of your people come around. I prefer to entertain my guests dressed properly, in actual clothes.”

Thorin spluttered, eyeing Dwalin furiously. “You saw him naked!?”

“I was in pyjamas, Thorin! Good Lord. Whatever has gotten into you this morning?”

He calmed his expression, and leaned back against the table once more. “Let’s just say sleep eluded me last night, as I was caring for a rather loud and drunk Campaign Manager and Head of Security.”

A pointed cough was heard at the doorway, indicating the arrival of Balin, who shuffled carefully into the room and slumped on a stool, next to Thorin. “Which we have apologised for at least a hundred times this morning. Not to worry, we are paying for it dearly.” He offered a smile up at Bilbo. “You feeling as weathered too, laddie?”

Bilbo smiled down at him warmly, unable to be mad at such an endearing smile. “So hungover that I had a coffee in the shower with me this morning.”

Balin chuckled, patting the stool beside him. “Come sit, Bilbo. You look like you could use it… And thank you for your kind hospitality last night; I haven’t had that much good Whiskey in a while.”

He padded over, sighing happily as he reclined back on the stool. “Me either. I’ll feel better once I get some real food into me, though.”

“Well why didn’t you say so! I’ll have a fry-up ready in a jiffy!” Belle clapped her hands happily and opened the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon.

“Oh Belle, I knew we were friends for a reason. If you weren’t already married I would snatch you up in a heartbeat.”

She giggled, putting the items down and squeezing his shoulder companionably. “You big flirt. Now, drink this water here and I’ll have breakfast ready before you’re done.” She turned towards Fili and Kili, brandishing two frilly aprons. “Boys! A little help in here?”

“Want us to do it _just_ in the aprons?” Kili grinned cheekily, motioning as if to pull his trousers down.

“I’ve already seen you in just your pants, pet. I don’t mind, do whatever you like.” She rolled her eyes and shook the aprons pointedly. “Well, make up your mind! I have some eggs that need frying and bacon that needs flipping, and only two hands.”

Kili slumped, reached forward and took the frilly apron and tied it around himself. The trousers remained.

“There we go, flower. Not so hard, was it? Now come on, we have some poor hungover lads to look after.”

“This still would have been more fun if I was just in my pants.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo rubbed his temples, groaning loudly. His stomach had luckily settled, thanks to Belle’s amazing breakfast, but the headache was still throbbing away, the fresh outdoor air not aiding in the slightest. He leaned forward on the stone garden bench he was sitting on, taking his head in his hands. “I am never, ever drinking again.”

He felt the cold touch of a glass being pressed against his left shoulder and looked up, greeted by Thorin moving the glass pointedly. “Well? Take it?”

“Right, thanks.” He sat up and took the glass as Thorin sat and joined him in his shady corner in the garden.

“I also got you this.” He offered over a packet of paracetamol, which Bilbo took eagerly, and swallowed two with a loud gulp of water.

“You’re a lifesaver. I fear I’ve run out, back at home.”

Thorin grunted noncommittally, staring out over the gardens. “Balin gave it to me, so thank him later.”

“Right.” Bilbo eyed him with interest, very aware of Thorin’s uneasy body language. His back was a touch too straight, shoulders too square, and he was avoiding eye contact. Bilbo worried his bottom lip with his teeth, unsure whether to speak or let the silence continue.

Thankfully, Thorin cleared his throat and broke the silence for him. “I do sincerely apologise for Balin and Dwalin’s behaviour over the past twenty-four hours, and I still wish to repay you for all they took.”

Bilbo groaned. “Really, Thorin. It’s fine.”

Thorin turned to look down at him. “Dwalin insulted you, and asked you questions which were far too private… and did so for my sake. Therefore it is me who is to blame.”

He laughed huffily, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “First, you don’t tell me anything and now you’re over-apologising. I’ve got to say, you’re giving me whiplash, Thorin.”

“I don’t mean to-”

“-No, it’s fine.” He sighed. “Honestly, the thing that aggravated me the most last night was the fact that they kept on refusing to tell me what actually happened with Erebor, and why you left your home.”

Thorin’s open expression locked up in an instant, transforming into a scowl. “What did they tell you?”

“Just that Smaug shouldn’t be trusted…” He looked up at Thorin searchingly. “I know it isn’t my place to ask, but really, what is going on? You can’t be so far away from home just to ask questions about Hobbiton and our _Solar Panels.”_

“Why I am here is none of your concern.”

Bilbo stood up and faced Thorin, hands on his hips. “ _Hobbiton_ is my concern. Don’t get all _politician-y_ on me again, I’d like a straightforward answer, thank you.”

“My past is my business.” He growled, eyes darkening.

“Well that’s all fucking good for you, but why has Hobbiton been pulled into this-” Thorin opened his mouth as if to speak, and was instantly silenced by Bilbo holding up a finger threateningly. “-No. It’s my time to speak. We may be simple folk who enjoy gardening, and you may think me silly for having a pony and flowers but I have _eyes_ , Thorin. I can see something is going on. All the shared secretive looks you and your company share, the glances when a Hobbit walks by… you’re worried about this place.”

“Bilbo, I must assure you, I-”

“-and don’t even _think_ of lying to me. I can see through your bullshit. All that nonsense over breakfast about planning to do a survey here and interviewing the Mayor. Utter horse shit.”

Thorin stood as well, towering over Bilbo. “I do not want to worry you.”

Bilbo laughed dryly, the smile not reaching his eyes. “I’m not some fainting maiden, Thorin. I can bloody take it.”

“Just know… that it’s under control and Hobbiton is safe.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that!” He held his hands up to the air dramatically, as if calling on the Gods. “The mighty _Thorin Durin_ tells me that it’s under control. Celebrate! For I have nothing to fear!”

Thorin clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger in check. “It is under control.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, honestly? You’ve been in Hobbiton all of two days, and all you’ve done is ruffle feathers and step on toes. Half of Hobbiton is saying you’re actually a redeveloper, after the land here to create a housing estate or some shit; and the other says you’re bloody royalty here on a holiday!” He took a breath, and lowered his voice, glaring daggers up at him. “Why. Are. You. Here.”

“Because I can’t let what happened to Erebormhappen here!” Thorin yelled roughly, his patience snapping.

Bilbo took a step back, arms falling limply at his side. “Is this whole thing seriously about you? The fate of Hobbiton may be at stake, and it’s all about _you._ ”

“Yes.”

“What the fuck, Thorin.” Bilbo started pacing, ruffling hair agitatedly. “There are people’s livelihoods at stake, and it’s about _you.”_

“I know! Do you think I came here easily? Do you think I am so proud, that I flew over here, uprooted all my friends, just to taunt you and risk your home? Are you so unkind?” Thorin barked, the rawness in his voice making Bilbo freeze and look up at him.

“Thorin, I-”

“-No. It is _my turn to speak._ ” He spat, taking another step towards him. “You always know exactly what to say to get a reaction out of me, and I have held my tongue long enough. I will tell you what happened with Erebor _if_ and _when_ I see fit. I will tell you what is happening with Hobbiton _if_ and _when_ I see fit. I will do _whatever the fuck I want_ if I see fit. I am here for a reason, I know what I am doing, and I do not need some soft, curly-haired tea-maker to lecture me on how to do my job.” He breathed heavily, glaring down at Bilbo who was glaring defiantly right back.

“You are not indestructible, Thorin.”

Thorin laughed dryly, the sound chilling Bilbo to the bone. “I have lost enough to know that to be true.”

Bilbo took a step closer, putting a hand softy on Thorin’s elbow, and looked up at him searchingly. “Thorin, what is going on?”

He shrugged Bilbo’s hand off, and took a step back. “You need to stop asking questions to which you will get no answer.”

“Fucking hell, Thorin...” His eyes darted up, a sudden thought springing to mind. “Wait. It’s all about Smaug, isn’t it?”

“You need to stop mentioning that name in my presence, I cannot assure you I will always keep my temper.”

“And it’s going so well now!”

“Brilliantly!” He yelled in reply, taking a step forwards.

“That’s fantastic!” Bilbo shouted back, now standing chest-to-chest with him.

They glared at each other for a minute, breathing raggedly; their heavy breaths making their chests bump against each other, whilst their eyes searched each other intensely.

“Uh… Uncle?” Kili asked hesitantly, the noise making Thorin and Bilbo snap out of it instantly, and take a few steps apart.

“What!” Thorin barked, voice far rougher after the yelling he had just been doing.

Kili visibly recoiled, wincing apologetically. “Dwalin said he had to ask you something? He said it was important?”

Thorin turned back towards Bilbo. “This isn’t over.”

“Oh how very lucky for me, I can’t wait to continue this scintillating conversation.”

He grunted in response and stormed inside, leaving a shell-shocked Kili standing by the door, gawping at Bilbo like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing comically.

“What the hell was that! How… how!” He gestured disbelievingly behind himself to where Thorin had disappeared, and back towards Bilbo. “How the hell did you get away with talking to him like that! I forget to say please when I ask for something and get torn a new one!”

Bilbo let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in, and looked at him.

“I have absolutely no idea.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo wiped the counter for what had to be the hundredth time, as he propped his head up on one hand, staring out the window. The teahouse was empty, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Thankfully, his hangover had now disappeared, but that had its own issues: now he had a clear head with witch to mill over exactly what the fuck had just happened.

He gave up on his half-arsed attempt on cleaning, and slumped down on the couch closesy to the counter. Bilbo had closed his eyes for only one second, when the bell chimed, indicating someone had walked in.

“Oh dear, it seems Balin was right when he said you were a bit rough after last night.”

Bilbo peeled one eye opened, greeted with the apologetic smile of Ori. “Oh, you have no idea my friend.”

Ori giggled and sat across from him at the table, pulling his large woollen scarf off his neck, hanging it on the chair behind him. “Are you alright?”

“I suppose.”

He eyed him incredulously. “Wow, you are awful at lying. You’re even worse than me.”

“It’s a family trait, I fear.” Bilbo chuckled and propped himself up by his elbows, sitting up straight. “Did Thorin send you?”

“No, why? Should he have?”

“Well…” Bilbo groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. “Ori, can I speak frankly?”

Ori leaned forward in his seat, trying to mask his excitement. “Of course, I swear I won’t tell anyone anything!”

“Brilliant. Well… Thorin and I kind of had a fight? And it got pretty intense and I think that maybe there might be some… tension brewing.”

“Tension?”

He coughed awkwardly. “You know… tension.”

“Like, you hate each other?”

_Goddamn it Ori was oblivious._

“Uhh… Well, we do. But then there’s a sort of… suspense.”

“I really have no idea what you mean.”

“We bicker and then there’s this sort of… electricity?”

“Like how? Did he zap you?” Ori’s brow furrowed. “Do I need to talk to him? Has he hurt you?”

“ _Sexual tension!_ There! I said it!” Bilbo exclaimed as Ori blushed bright red and covered his mouth with one hand. “I know you probably don’t want to hear about your boss in this manner, but I don’t really have anyone else to talk to that knows Thorin and how fucking frustrating that man can be.”

Ori leaned even closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Have you… like… kissed?”

Bilbo burst into laughter at the question, the way Ori had said it made it sound to be the most scandalous thing two people could do together. “Oh my dear Ori, you’re far too adorable.”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms. “Am not.”

“It wasn’t an insult, I mean it. I hope you have someone who is lovely and takes care of you.”

Ori’s face fell. “Well he is lovely and is good at taking care of people, but I fear he just doesn’t see me that way.”

Bilbo was halfway through a mouthful of water and choked on it, and had to pat his chest to get the coughing fit under control. “You can’t be talking about Dwalin, can you?” He asked incredulously.

“Maybe?”

“But _Dwalin?_ He’s so… rough.”

Ori blushed, biting his bottom lip. “I know, isn’t he just _delicious._ ”

That was it; Bilbo was sent over the edge and thrown into a full-blown coughing fit. “Not saying he isn’t, I just couldn’t picture him being… _delicious_.”

“He has this really hard exterior, but once you see through it, he’s this massive softie underneath... like Thorin.”

“Good Lord, there are many things Thorin is, but a _softie_ is definitely not one of them.”

“You’ve known him two days! I’ve known him my entire life, trust me. The only reason he’s so tough on Fili and Kili is because he loves them so much.”

“Those two boys are a menace.”

Ori laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “You have absolutely no idea.”

Bilbo hummed in response. “Yeah, I can imagine though.”

Ori bit his lip, obviously trying to word a question. “Uhh, Bilbo? Could I maybe ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Let it slide with Dwalin, about the whole… security check? He was just doing his job and didn’t mean to offend you or anything. As soon as he finished writing his notes I saw him delete the audio, you have nothing to worry about.”

Bilbo stilled. “Wait. You heard that?”

“Um… yes? Is that all right? I was just taking notes for Thorin while they talked.”

“Who else heard it?”

Ori furrowed his brow, counting on his fingers. “Well, there was Thorin, Dwalin, Balin, my brother Nori and I.”

“Why did your brother have to sit in?”

“He’s our Social Media and Internet expert, he was called in to listen and look into a… James Silver, I think his name was?”

Bilbo groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Oh God, I had hoped they were only joking about looking into James.”

“...I know it’s not my place, but I’m sorry it ended so badly between you both.”

“It’s fine, really. It was an age ago, I was so young.” He smiled over at Ori earnestly. “Let’s just say now I’m overly prepared for spotting a twat, when it comes to my next relationship.”

“I’m glad, you’re far too nice to deserve another…” Ori patted his shoulder softly. “But really, you have nothing to worry about with the whole ‘James thing’, Nori is amazing at his job, and nobody will know he was monitoring him.”

“Fantastic, that makes it so much better.” He responded dryly, taking another mouthful of water.

“You do know we have to do it, right?”

“I do, it’s just… I’ve known you lot for only two days and my life has already just taken such a ridiculous turn. I had breakfast with the _Party Princes_. I took the possible future PM around on my _pony_ for a tour of Hobbiton. It’s just…. A lot to swallow. I am a Baggins, of Bag End, not some social climber or political expert.”

“Wait, I have an idea.”

“Yes?”

“We are really not as different as you think we are, please let me invite you to dinner and you can see for yourself?”

Bilbo hesitated. “Will Thorin be there?”

“No! Just my brothers, and maybe one or two friends. I promise you, you’ll have a lovely evening, Bombur’s a great cook and Bofur is a really great musician, you’ll get on well with them and have the best time.”

“I don’t know…”

“Oh, please Mister Bilbo! Come around to the B&B tonight, I know Thorin and his lot are out for the night, it’ll just be family and friends.”

Bilbo sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine, but I have to visit my cousin in Bree this afternoon, I’ll be over later.”

Ori brightened up, clapping his hands together eagerly. “Fantastic!” He scrambled up in his chair, throwing his scarf haphazardly around his neck. “I’ll go tell the others, arrive at around six?”

“Sure, that should work.”

Ori leant over the table and engulfed Bilbo in a warm hug, which he returned happily. “Your life isn’t becoming ridiculous, Bilbo. You’ll still have your respectability intact when we’re all gone!” He jumped up and headed out the door, pausing at the threshold. “See you tonight!”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Wine! Lots and lots of wine!” Ori beamed over at him and waved eagerly, then sped out the door.

Bilbo slumped down in his chair, unsure of what just happened.

“If I have another hangover tomorrow, I’m coming for him. I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this kind of got a tad angsty between Thorin and Bilbo real quick. Whoops.
> 
> Thoughts:  
> -I don't know how you all feel, but I imagine modern Kili as being this sort of... slut with a heart of gold?  
> Like, he is confident, teases and acts coy all the time, but just falls for people at the drop of the hat and is heartbroken constantly, and Fili often has to pick up the pieces? Hmm.
> 
> This fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies if I mess up anything...
> 
> Comments most welcome!
> 
> I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can.


	4. Eau de Brewery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo visits baby Frodo in Hospital,  
> We meet little Samwise Gamgee,  
> And Bofur decides a drinking game is in order.

Bilbo sat carefully in the hospital chair, very aware of the warm bundle in his arms. He pulled back the soft, floral blanket to reveal a head of messy dark hair, and rosy cheeks. The baby stirred, opened his eyelids and looked up at Bilbo with his giant blue eyes, blinking lazily as he slowly awoke.

“Oh Prim, he is just so lovely!”

She laughed tiredly from where she was lying in the hospital bed and beamed over at him as she squeezed her husband’s hand, Drogo perched on the bed beside her. “He really is something, isn’t he?”

Bilbo ran a finger over Frodo’s chubby cheeks slowly, gazing down into the bottomless blue eyes. “He really is…”

Drogo chuckled, as he put an arm around his beaming wife. “We best be careful, love. Old Bilbo there looks like he’s contemplating stealing our handsome son right from under our noses.”

“Hey! Only older by a year, you git.”

 _“Boys.”_ Prim chided cheekily. “Not so loud, Frodo only just got off to sleep.”

Frodo let out a small sigh and kicked his legs, turned his head and nuzzled slightly into the crook of Bilbo’s elbow.

Bilbo absolutely melted.

“I’m _definitely_ stealing him.”

Drogo laughed softly, shaking his head. “How about you take the night shift, eh? You can have the screaming and feeding; we’ll take the park trips and morning cartoons. Deal?”

“Well when you put it like _that…_ ”

Prim boxed him in the shoulder cheekily. “Hey, no pawning off our son to members of the family. You’re a father now, time to act like one.”

Bilbo smiled fondly at the display, cuddling Frodo a little closer. “Christ, Drogo, you’re a father now. How ridiculous is that!”

He ran his hand tiredly through his hair, grinning widely down at his cousin. “I know. I’m still getting used to it, to be honest. I’m tired, but I’m so happy.”

Prim elbowed him in the ribs, raising an eyebrow. “ _You’re tired_? Oh you poor thing! Those nine hours of labour must have been exhausting for you, holding my hand and drinking all that tea.”

“Prim, love, you know what I mean!” He offered, smiling apologetically.

“Just give up, mate. You know she wins every time.”

She kissed him on the cheek, making his smile shine even brighter. “I really do, love. You’re useless against me and I love you for it.”

He grumbled under his breath. “…’m not useless.”

“Drogo, every time you see an actor you recognise you always start it with ‘You know that man! He was in that film! You know! The one with the end of the world’ or _something_ just as vague… you’re a tad useless.” Bilbo leant back on the armchair carefully, crossing his legs. “Let’s just hope it isn’t genetic, for Frodo’s sake.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. You’re family, Bilbo, you’re meant to defend me.”

“Against Prim?” He shook his head, tutting disparagingly. “You’re on your own, mate. Made that mistake once and I’ll never make it again.”

“Wise words.” She kissed her husband on the cheek again, removing the pout from his face. “You knew what you were getting into when you married me, love. And now you’re really stuck with me.” Prim held him by his chin and steered him into a long kiss, making Bilbo release a childish ‘yuck’ to stop the display of affection getting out of hand.

“Guys, come on! Audience here!”

Drogo chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, mate. It’s all just a bit exciting, you know?” He squinted his eyes, observing Bilbo keenly. “Speaking of which, looks like you’ve had a bit of excitement yourself, something’s different about you.”

Bilbo spluttered. “No-nothing has changed. Nope. Nothing at all.”

“Wow, that lie was even worse than one of my Drogo’s.” Prim added, rolling her eyes.

“Why is everyone challenging what I say today, Christ! Nothing has happened; you’ve just got baby-brains. It’s all the hormones in the room.”

“Easy there, Bilbo.” Prim warned.

“Yes, sorry. But you’re definitely seeing things.” He looked down at Frodo, stroking his chubby cheek fondly. “Hopefully you won’t be as ridiculous as your parents when you grow up, my boy.”

“Wait. Oh my God. You’ve _met someone._ ” She accused, covering her mouth excitedly with one hand.

“What? No! How did you jump to that conclusion!” He responded, blushing bright red.

“It’s obvious! Why, I’ve never seen you so clucky.”

“Have you _seen_ your son? He is adorable! Nobody is immune to those big blue eyes!"

Prim tutted amusedly, pointing an accusing finger down at him. “It’s painted all over your face, you’re not fooling me.” She sat up straighter in her bed eagerly, pulling Drogo closer. “So, what’s his name? Tell us _everything._ ”

Bilbo groaned, pinching his brow. “You’re insane.”

“I’m right, and you know it. Fess up.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something!” She gestured towards him, pointing at his face. “I mean, look at you! You’re all… _cute_. I’ve never seen you like this, except at the start of your relationship with James.”

“Oh God, do _not_ mention that name ever again.”

Prim gasped, leaning forward eagerly. “Why? Did that fucker text you or something?”

“Fucking-no, calm down woman!” He took a breath and rubbed his face tiredly. “I just was reminded recently that he has a certain photo… of me doing something… unsavoury.”

“Please tell me he doesn’t have a pic of you doing something dirty to yourself, I really don’t need that mental image right now.”

“Uhh… more like doing it to _him._ ”

Prim grinned at him cheekily. “Love, you never let them take a photo of you going down on them, that’s safe-breakup 101… Wow, you really _were_ young when you were with him, weren’t you.”

“Yes, so leave off. I wasn’t thinking!”

She held up her hands defensively. “I wasn’t teasing, promise. What you do with your partners is your prerogative, as long as it’s all consensual and nobody gets hurt… But is this why you’re so hesitant with your new bloke? Worried about the past coming up?”

Bilbo groaned. “No. _Well, yes_. But mostly no.”  
  
“Wow, that was so straightforward, thanks for that Bilbo.”

“There’s no new _somebody_ , so just calm yourself.”

“Sure there isn’t.” Prim hummed thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her fingers. “So, your _not-somebody_ , is he cute?”

“He’s a twat.”

“You’ll get on famously, then.”

He rolled his eyes, sighing exasperatedly. “Hilarious.”

Drogo chuckled and stood up, and walked over to where Bilbo was sitting by the bed. “It’s time to put him off to bed, let me just scoop him up.” Bilbo shot him a grumpy look as Drogo leaned forward and supported his son’s head with one hand, and held his body with the other, pulling him out of Bilbo’s arms and into his own.

Bilbo smiled up at them softly, already missing the warm bundle in his arms. “If you ever need a babysitter, you know who to call.”

“Yes, and we’ll never get him back.” Drogo replied cheekily, as he walked over to the crib and placed his son carefully down, tucking him in. He returned back to the bed, wrapping an arm around his wife once more. “So, did you end up calling that Sandyman boy?”

“Yeah, he’s coming in tomorrow for a trial. Hopefully he isn’t completely useless.”

Drogo hummed in agreement. “I swear I’ll come back as soon as I can, you can’t run the place with just you and a young lad for too long.”

“I said to stop worrying about that and come back when it’s the right time for you two, you berk.”

“That’s all well and good for us, Bilbo, but you have a business to run.” Prim added, crossing her arms.

He groaned. “Guys, you just had a baby. Please just worry about yourselves for once and focus on Frodo, I have this sorted.”

“You promise to call us if something cocks up?”

Bilbo stood, cricking his back. “Yes, yes. Stop fussing.” He walked over and gave them both a kiss on the cheek. “And this has been lovely, but I really must be off. Have to go have dinner with the politician’s mates. Should be interesting.”

Prim grinned up at him slyly. “And your _not-somebody_ , he going to be there?”

“No, thank Christ. He’s off being a prat somewhere else.”

“I’m sure you’re heartbroken. Now tell me, how pert is his arse?”

“ _Goodbye_ , Prim.” He replied sternly as she flipped him off, making his grin widen. “You’re a mother, best start acting like one.”

“ _Fuck off_.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo smoothed down the front of his navy dress shirt, shifting his weight uncomfortably from side to side as he stood at the B&B front door, waiting for someone to let him in. He rang the doorbell again, peering through the window eagerly to see if anyone was coming to fetch him.

He checked his watch for the umpteenth time, tapping the glass impatiently. If he knew he was going to be outside in the cold for so long, he would have brought a damn jacket, his maroon trousers and silk shirt did nothing against the crisp night air.

Muffled and down the hallway, frantic footsteps approached. “I’m so sorry!” The front door was pulled open, revealing a flushed and slightly panting Ori, in his usual grey knitted bits and pieces, matched with black skinny jeans and a white shirt. “We were all in the back sitting room and didn’t hear the bell, you must be freezing!” He pulled Bilbo into a warm hug, and then gestured for him to join him inside the cottage.

“It’s no problem, really.”

Ori shook his head animatedly, biting his lip. “I’m so sorry, really! Here, let me help you with that.” He pulled one of the two bottles of red wine out of Bilbo’s grasp, reading the label eagerly. “Ooh this looks lovely, Dori will be pleased. He enjoys a good Grenache.”

Bilbo rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Ah, that’s good.” He took a step towards him, lowering his voice. “So, who am I meeting tonight, again?”

“Oh, right!” Ori positively beamed, pulling his iPhone out of his pocket, and opened his photo gallery. “This is Dori, my oldest brother.” He swiped to a picture of a smiling, grey-haired man, who looked like he was in his mid-forties, and was sipping from a dainty floral teacup. His long hair was pulled into a topknot, his short beard immaculately trimmed, and he was in a fine three-piece suit with a maroon waistcoat. “Mum had him fifteen years before me, and he sort of helped raise me… so he’s bit of a fusspot. He’s the fundraising director for Thorin… so essentially he knows anyone who’s anyone, and really knows how to entertain. And do small-talk.”

“He looks the fundraising type, I can definitely see him mingling with those rich gits.”

Ori giggled, and swiped through his gallery to show another picture, of a grinning red-haired man, with some of the longest and most ridiculous eyebrows Bilbo had ever seen. “Don’t let Nori hear you say that, he already gives Dori enough heat about being so _uppity_.” He swiped to the next photo, revealing Nori surrounded by complicated and expensive looking equipment, smiling up at the camera with a big mug of coffee in one hand and typing with the other.

“I thought you said he worked in _social media_ , the man looks like he works for M16!” Bilbo whispered urgently, tapping the photo pointedly.

“He does have a small collection of computers and the like, but nothing too extreme.” Ori replied defensively, pouting slightly.

“He looks like a bloody Quartermaster from a James Bond film!”

Ori looked down at the photo, zooming into the background in the picture, where machines and monitors covered the wall from floor to ceiling. “No he doesn’t…”

Bilbo pinched his brow, trying to calm himself. “I’ll deal with this later. Now, who else am I meeting?”

“Just Bombur, and his brother Bofur.” Ori counted on his fingers, putting his iPhone back in his pocket. “Bombur is our cook when we’re on the road, and Bofur-”

“-is completely able to introduce himself, thank you very much lad.”

Bilbo and Ori turned around swiftly, greeted by the cheeky grin and twinkling eyes of the intruder. He had long dark brown hair; which was pulled back into a plait down his back and topped with a ridiculous furry grey hat, with earflaps that stuck out comically at the sides. He had a trimmed goatee and moustache, which he was fiddling with as he watched them amusedly; and was wearing a casual pair of dark jeans, navy oxfords, a chunky brown buttoned up cardigan, a striped maroon and navy scarf and ratty grey mittens. It seemed Ori wasn’t the only knitting enthusiast.

Bofur walked over and gripped Bilbo’s hand strongly, giving him a solid handshake. “So this is the local Fili and Kili have been raving about.”

“Uh, I suppose so?”

He laughed warmly, clapping him on the back. “I heard you gave Thorin a run for his money this morning. Good on you! He’s got a stick so far up his arse, he-”

“-Bofur!” Ori chided, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Right, right. Keep forgetting I can’t slander his name in his P.A.'s presence.”

Ori huffed, crossing his arms. ‘You work for him too, you should show him more respect.”

Bofur chuckled. “Lad, I work _with_ him, and I've never signed a contract. I’ve seen him drunk and make an arse out of himself so many times I’ve lost count, there’s no way he’s my bloody  _boss_.”

Bilbo clapped him on the shoulder, grinning up at the taller man. “I think we should _definitely_ be friends. And you need to tell me more about all the embarrassing things Thorin has done.”

“Lad, there _aren't_ _hours in the day_ for all I have to say about that man cocking things up.”

Ori groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you too, I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

“Enough of that, lad. Let’s go introduce Bilbo to the family.”

Bilbo held up the bottle of wine. “Uh, and I brought this?”

“Good, lad. You’ll need it.”

 

\---

 

And he did need it.

Bilbo finished his second glass wine for the night eagerly and leant back in his chair, silently observing the chaos that was unfolding around him. His new companions, when it came down to dinnertime, were absolute barbarians.

Everyone was yelling over one another, rolls of bread were being thrown, and Dori was just sitting calmly in the corner, the only person who seemed to be using their cutlery for its intended use. Bofur had thrown a boiled egg right into his brother’s mouth and the whole table had erupted with cheers, Nori standing up on his chair and shaking his fists excitedly.

When Bilbo was invited to dinner he expected the usual scenario, where good jazz was played in the background and small talk was exchanged. Perhaps a group discussion would occur about a certain film, or an episode of Strictly that had just aired.

But no. This was some medieval feast bullshit that was happening; Bilbo was half expecting a mangy dog to come out of nowhere and start licking their hands as they continued eating, or a minstrel to appear and pull out a fucking _lute._

“You alright there, lad?”

Bilbo turned and smiled at Bofur, who leaned forward and topped up his and Bilbo’s wine glasses. “It’s just a little louder than I’m used to, is all.”

“Aye, sorry about all this, we haven’t been in the same place for a while. Not to worry though, we’ll get it all out of our system soon.”

“Right.”

Tiny footsteps sounded in the distance, and a mop of ginger curls popped up by Bilbo’s side, attached to the impish grin and flushed cheeks of little Sam Gamgee. Louder steps were heard closing in, announcing the arrival of the boy’s father, who leant against the doorway, red-faced and puffing.

Sam squealed excitedly at the prospect of being caught by his father, and climbed into Bilbo’s lap, putting his small arms around Bilbo’s shoulders as Bilbo steadied the excited boy, and ensured nothing _delicate_ would be trampled on by little Hobbit feet.

“Da, no!” He giggled, burying his face in Bilbo’s neck. “Save me Mister Bilbo!”

“Oh Bilbo I’m so sorry to interrupt your dinner here, Sam’s been rather cheeky today. Little tyke ran straight through my legs and out his bedroom door, he did.”

Bilbo chuckled, patting Sam’s back fondly. “It’s quite alright, Hamfast.”

Hamfast pushed his red curls out of his eyes, wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand. “Lad’s far too fast for his age, he is. Fatherhood is making me fitter.”

“Think of it as a blessing, I suppose. You’ll never need a gym membership.”

He laughed warmly, as he entered the room and ruffled Sam’s hair fondly. “I really won’t, all the chasing I do after this little troublemaker.”

“I’m good, Da! I just wanted to see Mister Bilbo!” Sam whined, wrapping his arms just a little to tightly around Bilbo’s neck.

Bilbo pulled Sam’s arms carefully from around his neck and sat him down sideways on his lap, supporting his back with one hand. “And you have now, my little man, but your Da was putting you to bed and it’s getting late.”

Sam scrunched his face, letting out a high-pitched whine. “But I want to stay with you! You always tell the best stories!”

“Yes but Mister Bilbo is having dinner with his friends, you can see him sometime later. Would you like it if somebody interrupted your dinner?” His father asked, hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Sam looked up at Bilbo, eyes wide. “Oh bother. Mister Bilbo, did I ruin your dinner?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Sam. You’re just fine.” He looked up at Hamfast, smiling cheekily. “But I think you’ve made your Da nearly pop a lung with all your running about.”

Hamfast patted his belly loudly, grinning down at them. “Aye, your Da isn’t used to doing all this running you’ve had him doing lately at all, my little fox cub.”

Sam giggled, covering his mouth with his hands. “Sorry, Da.”

“You’re alright, lad.” He laid a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. “If it’s alright with Mister Bilbo, you can sit with him for a little while, while I go and run your bath. How does that sound?”

He looked up at Bilbo eagerly, wiggling excitedly in his lap. “Please, Mister Bilbo? I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour and won’t run away or nothin’!”

“It would be my pleasure, my little man. You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Yes!” He whooped, lifting his little chubby arms excitedly, bouncing up and down.

“Careful there, lad. Don’t want to knock over Mister Bilbo’s wine there.”

“Sorry Da.” Sam sat up straight in Bilbo’s lap, putting his hands carefully on his little, scuffed knees. “I’ll just sit here like this, you won’t have to worry about nothin’.”

Bilbo grinned down at him. “What excellent posture, Sam.” He winked up at Hamfast. “I’ve got him, you can do all your _fathery_ _business_ and come back when you need him, he’s fine here.”

Hamfast clapped his shoulder. “You should come around more often, become my Sam-catcher when it’s bathtime.”

Sam giggled, shaking his head so fast his curls became a red blur. “That’s silly, Da. Then he’ll be here all the time!”

“Well, it’s still a good idea.” He winked at Bilbo. “Nevermind, I’ll be back soon to fetch you.” Hamfast walked out the door, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“Now, Sam, I have some people to introduce you to. This is Bofur, Bombur, Ori, Nori and Dori. They work with Mister Thorin.” He pointed at them all in turn, Sam nodding his head when each name was called out.

“I know, Mister Bilbo! They all live here, silly.”

Bilbo blinked. “Oh. Of course.”

Bofur poked Sam in the side, making him squeal excitedly. “Aye, I’ve been chasing this little tyke around the garden all afternoon, cheeky lad stole my hat!”

“I thought there was a kitten hiding in there!” Sam exclaimed, bobbing up and down excitedly. “It’s so fluffy!”

The table erupted into hoots of laughter, Bofur crossing his arms and shooting them all a sour look. “This hat is made of the finest and rarest wool, thank you very much... And has won me a few _unforgettable nights_ , if you must know.” He added, eyes twinkling cheekily.

Bilbo covered Sam’s ears, making the young boy giggle. “Hey, children at the table!”

Bofur shot him his most innocent look, crossing his legs as he lent back in his chair. “I merely meant meeting some fellow hat enthusiasts and sharing a conversation over a pint. You really must get your mind out of the gutter, lad.”

He released Sam’s ears, rolling his eyes exasperatedly. “Of course, _my_ mind.”

“Aye, lad.”

Sam tapped Bilbo’s shoulder politely, leaning up to talk in his ear. “There wasn’t a kitten hiding in there at all, it just smelt of old mouldy socks.” Sam wrinkled his nose comically, as if smelling the dreaded hat once more.

The group burst back into raucous laughter, Bombur slapping his belly loudly and wiping away a tear. “Oh, this boy is brilliant. We’ve got to keep him around more often!” Bombur praised, making Sam grin proudly over at him.

“Cheeky lad reminds me of Kili, when he was his age. Always running about and causing some trouble.” Dori added, smiling fondly the young boy.

“Do you remember when the lad put his porridge in Thorin’s shoes so he didn’t have to eat it!” Bofur paused and slapped his knee, keeling forward in his chair. “I have never seen him so conflicted, he wanted to laugh and yell at that poor boy at the same time, went bright red he did, I thought his head might explode.”

Bombur laughed so hard his beer came out of his nose, making the rest of the group except Bilbo cheer, Sam standing up in Bilbo’s lap to get a better view of the spluttering man. “You _arse,_ I was drinking and everything!” He chided, as he wiped beer out of his large ginger beard with a soggy napkin.

“Arse!” Sam echoed excitedly, making Bilbo wince and the rest of the table cheer and raise their glasses.

“No my dear, we can’t say that word. It’s a rude adult word.” Bilbo said, trying his best to keep a straight face.

Sam furrowed his brow, looking down at him. “What, like _cock?_ ”

They all burst into laughter once more, making Bilbo groan and close his eyes. “And _where_ did you hear that word?”

He pointed a chubby finger at Ori, who was blushing brighter red by the minute.

“Ori!?” Bilbo asked, leaning forward in his seat. “Are you serious?”

Ori stuttered, covering his mouth with one hand. “I was on the phone and didn’t know he was standing behind me and listening, until I turned around and he asked me what it meant.”

Bilbo covered his eyes with one hand, the other arm wrapped around Sam’s middle to keep him from falling. “And please do tell me Ori, what did you say it means?”

“Uhh… that it’s a boy’s willy.” He replied, scrunching his face apologetically.

The hooting and hollering increased in volume, making Ori’s blush deepen further. Sam, unsure exactly what was going on, jumped up and down excitedly, thinking he had told a funny joke and made them all laugh. “I have one of those! It floats when I’m in the bath!”

“How fun.” Bilbo groaned, trying not to clobber all other members at the table, who were all now red-faced and panting in between pained breaths, their laughter becoming so intense they were struggling for breath.

Sam turned around in his grip, nodding enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. I also have a blue boat and a dinosaur and a bear called Susan!”

“Thank _Christ,_ suitable dinner conversation.”

Bofur clapped Bilbo on the shoulder, wiping a tear away with the other hand. “It’s all right, lad. He’s a wide-eyed boy who asks a million questions a minute, he’s bound to hear the odd curse word now and then.”

“Yes, but if that word is repeated to Bell and she knows I was somehow involved, I will have my bollocks handed to me on a silver platter.” He whispered back, cupping Sam’s ears.

“You’re right, she _definitely_ would.”

Bilbo removed his hands from Sam’s ears, and pulled him down gently to sit on his lap. “Can we _please_ remain on a clean topic for once, while we have a young guest?”

Sam crossed his arms huffily. “I’m nearly six, I’m not that little.”

Dori cooed, clapping one hand on his chest. “Oh bless him, he’s as stubborn as Ori was at his age.”

Ori groaned, putting his face in his hands. “Please don’t start, you were doing this all morning.”

“You were an independent little lad, like Sam over here. Didn’t need nobody’s help or nothing, bless.”

Bofur reached forward and pinched Ori’s cheek, making him slap his hand away and cross his arms huffily, mirroring Sam. “And look, now they even have matching pouts! I feel I’m seeing double!”

Bilbo gave him a sympathetic look, getting the feeling that this happened a lot. Ori smiled weakly back, shrugging defeatedly.

Nori coughed loudly, making the teasing stop. “Alright leave off, lads. That’s quite enough.” He took a long sip of his wine, eyeing Bilbo keenly. “Bilbo has been a gracious guest all night and held his tongue, and I think he deserves a few answers tonight.”

The group quieted instantly, Bofur making silencing gestures with his hand by his throat.

Sam turned around in Bilbo’s lap, feet tucking under him. “What did you want to ask, Mister Bilbo? Is this about the bad word I said before?”

He ruffled his hair affectionately, shaking his head. “No Sam, you just don’t say that word again, all right? You’ve done nothing wrong.” Bilbo cleared his throat, and took a careful sip of wine, holding Sam close to his chest as he leaned forward. He looked Nori in the eye searchingly, looking for a hint of mockery, and found none. “I want to know why you left Erebor.”

Nori nodded, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough question. We left Erebor because we were forced out, our goldmines became dangerous and we all had to leave.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Yeah, there were riots and everything. We were only given two days to move out before we would be thrown out. Forcefully.”

Bilbo’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all. The entire island had to be evacuated, as well as our trade port, Dale. It’s all abandoned now; a huge fence has been built around the place. Nobody gets in or out.”

“Why didn’t I see this in the news? There must have been hundreds of refugees, I heard _nothing._ ”

“Thousands.” Nori took another sip of wine. “Let’s just say it was silenced by people in high places.”

“ _Christ_.” Bilbo slumped down in his chair, pulling Sam a little closer. “Smaug, yeah?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I’m telling you, Bilbo. It isn’t my place to tell you about Smaug, that’s Thorin’s personal business.”

Bilbo nodded, going over all the information in his head. “Right. I’ll just have to ask him again.”

“I’d tell you if I could, mate.”

“I appreciate the honesty, really. It’s refreshing… Anything else you can tell me?”

Nori scratched at his ginger beard, staring at the roof thoughtfully. “The anniversary is coming up soon, so Thorin will be extra touchy about it. He lost his brother and parents, so it’s a rough time for him.”

He winced sympathetically. “How long has it been?”

“Coming on fifteen years, it is. Fili and Kili can’t even remember the place.”

“Aye, the lads were only five and six when it happened.” Bofur added, shaking his head.

“So… where did you all move to, when it happened?”

Bofur took a sip of wine, and filled up his glass. “A small town in the north of Scotland, just in the Blue Mountains. It’s a nice enough place, and we made do, but it still isn’t home. Not for us who can remember Erebor, anyways.”

“Why didn’t you call the police? Or get the Government involved?”

Nori laughed bitterly. “Mate, it was the bleedin’ Government who kicked us _out_.”

“No, that’s ridiculous! This is all so far-fetched, it sounds like it’s from a book.”

“I’m not lying, Bilbo, I swear. Just answering your questions.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Is this why you have all that tech?”

Nori shrugged indifferently. “Perhaps. I like to know what’s being said, it all keeps me informed.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. “Christ, I can’t believe I’ve never heard about any of this…”

“It’s because you were never meant to, Bilbo. _Nobody was._ ”

 

\---

 

Bilbo wobbled out the front door, held up by a giggling Ori, who was trying his best to keep himself upright as well. After Sam had been taken back by Hamfast and put to bed, Bofur had thought it would be a brilliant idea to play some drinking games… which Ori and Bilbo both lost disastrously. And were both now absolutely shitfaced.

“I swear, I am going to bloody kill you lot tomorrow morning when I wake up, I am going to be so hungover.” Bilbo moaned, as he leant against the door frame while Ori closed it behind them carefully, trying not to wake the entire cottage.

“I’ve had so much, I’m probably going to still be drunk at lunchtime” Ori slurred, as he took a careful and calculated step forward, leaning on the opposite wall to Bilbo.

Bilbo giggled, covering his mouth with one hand. “You are so _fucked_.”

Ori wobbled to one side, a dopey smile playing on his face as he closed his eyes. “Mmm yes I am, thank you ma’am.”

He stifled another giggle under his hand and took a heavy step forward, popping his collar and pulling his arms around himself. “Thank fuck I’m so drunk, otherwise I would be freezing my tits off right now.”

“You don’t have any tits, you berk.”

“ _Fine_ , bollocks then. My lovely, lovely bollocks are about to freeze, turn black and fall right off.”

Ori scrunched up his face. “That’s awful. D-Don’t say that ever again, shhh.” He started sliding down the wall, making Bilbo have to lurch forward and save him, and pull him back up.

“Christ, what is that smell? _Coffee Patron?_ ”

Bilbo turned his head sluggishly, recognising Dwalin’s voice, and beamed up at him and Thorin, who were standing and watching them, arms crossed.

He winked at them coyly. “Well hey there, bros.”

“ _Bros?_ ” Thorin asked, thoroughly dumbfounded, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Bros. Brothers… _Brethren?_ ”

Ori giggled loudly, snorting at the end. “Oh my God, you did not just quote _She’s the Man.”_

“That film is a fucking _masterpiece_ , you t-twat.” Bilbo replied as his knees gave out a little, making Thorin lunge forward and catch him just in time, holding him around his shoulders.

“You smell like a Brewery.”

“It’s all the rage, I call it _Eau de Brewery_.” Bilbo giggled at his own joke and eyed him lazily, eyelids heavy with all the alcohol in his veins. “Y-you smell like” He leant forward and sniffed him, slipping even more, and ended up completely in Thorin’s arms, which were wrapped about his chest. “Heh. Aftershave and… Whiskey.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me Bofur decided to play some of his drinking games with you both.”

Ori hiccupped and slid down the wall, making Dwalin also do a ‘dive for the drunk’. He blushed and batted his eyelashes up at him, smiling apologetically. “H-He said we had to initiate B-Bilbo into the team. So now he’s one of us!”

His knees completely buckled, making Dwalin roll his eyes and pick him up in his arms, as if he was about to carry him across the threshold in some ridiculous romance film. “I’m going to go put this one to bed, you take Bilbo home.” Dwalin grunted as he ignored Ori’s irritated squeaks, opened the door to the cottage, and closed it behind them.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, who was glaring daggers into the space that Dwain had just occupied. “Uh, I think I’m much better now, the fresh air has started to clear my head. Really.”

“You can’t even stand, I’m walking you home.”

He shrugged his shoulders out of Thorin’s grip and wobbled forward, putting his arms out to steady himself, turned around and grinned up at him. “See? Fine.”

Thorin crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow amusedly. “Take two steps, and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Done. Want a kiss to seal the deal?” He asked, batting his eyelashes mischevously.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re moody.”

Thorin laughed softly, shaking his head. “I have been told that before, yes.”

Bilbo eyed him keenly. “And you’re kind. R-Really, _really_ kind.” He burped loudly. “When you’re not being a _twat._ ”

“For your sake, I really hope you don’t remember this tomorrow.”

He took a step forward. “Well, then maybe I should do something stupid, since it doesn’t matter, and I won’t remember.”

“I’m not doing this when you’re drunk.”

“So you _do_ want to do this?”

“I’m not having this _conversation_ while you’re drunk.”

Bilbo took his second step forward, and bit his lip, giving Thorin a solid eyefucking. “ _Nevermind_ , I’ve made my two required steps.”

He shrugged indifferently and side-stepped Thorin, walking briskly up the hill, only swaying a little.

“Send me a text when you get home safe, you idiot.” He heard Thorin yell behind him.

 

He raised both middle fingers above his head in response and continued his walk up the hill, wobbling towards home.

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry Bilbo, your poor liver must be weeping right now.
> 
> Yeah, so I've played around with the Dwarves's ages a tad, because plot?  
> I know Thorin and Bilbo didn't interact a lot in this chapter, but not to worry, lots ahead in the next one!  
> *Rubs hands together eagerly*
> 
> This fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies if I mess up anything...
> 
> Comments most welcome!
> 
> I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can.


	5. Tea by the Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin attempts to talk about his feelings to an extremely patient Balin,  
> Bilbo is hungover as all hell,  
> And tea is shared by the fireside.

Thorin chuckled, shaking his head amusedly. That Bilbo was really something else. He headed back inside, loosening the tie around his neck, and undid his top two shirt buttons. The day had been long and he was thoroughly exhausted; scouting Hobbiton with Balin and Dwalin had been a momentous task, but had luckily been rewarded with some quality Whiskey at the local tavern, The Green Dragon.

He strolled into the kitchen and ran into Bofur’s side, not seeing the man just around the corner... Who was leaning forward into the fridge in just his red pants.  _Nice._

Bofur pulled out a carton of milk, took a swig, and winked at Thorin. “Careful where you’re walking there, lad. People might think it’s you that’s had too much liquor, not me.”

“Hilarious.” Thorin rolled his eyes. “Also, thank you for  _initiating_  our resident Hobbit. I just had a rather interesting… conversation with a rather drunk and extra-fiesty Bilbo.”

“Aye, I may have had something to do with that. But I’m not sorry, mind you; that lad has some of the best stories I have ever heard! Whoever started the rumour that village life is quiet or boring should be shot.”

“He could barely walk home.”

Bofur’s eyes twinkled. “Well then maybe you should have been a gentleman and walked him to his cosy little cottage up on the hill. Maybe even shared a cheeky nightcap with the lad.” He leant back against the wall, crossing his arms. “It’s been a while since you’ve shared a  _nightcap_  with anyone, now that I think of it. You’ve got to be careful Thorin, don’t want any cobwebs forming down there where the sun don’t shine.”

“Stop,  _please_.” Thorin groaned, covering his eyes. “We are not discussing this at 1am in the kitchen, with you standing there in just your pants, drinking milk out of the carton.”

“Enjoying the view, eh?” He chuckled, wiggling his hips cheekily. “Never mind that, let me ask, will you discuss it with anyone? I know you’ve got the whole…” He gestured at Thorin’s person, from head to toe. “…Mysterious and broody thing going on for you, but you really need to start talking, Thorin. You’re locked up like a safe, you are. It’s not healthy.”

“Can we not do this right now? I know you always turn into Parky when you drink, but I’ve had one hell of a day and really don’t want to be interviewed about my  _feelings._ ”

“Fine, fine. I’m backing off.” He raised his hands in surrender. “All I’ll say is, Bilbo is a top lad, and you could do a lot worse.”

“ _Bofur_ …” Thorin warned.

He gazed up at Thorin earnestly. “At least open up to Dwalin about it?”

Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, that’s a  _no_  then.”

“I said I’ll think about it.” He repeated sternly, through gritted teeth.

Bofur took another sip from the carton in his hand, eyeing Thorin searchingly. “You’re different around young Mr Baggins, you know that?”

“I said we’re not discussing this.” 

“…You don’t  _brood_  as much. Heavens, I even saw you  _smile_  when you came in here a few moments ago, after saying goodnight to our dear Hobbit.” Bofur continued, ignoring Thorin’s glare.

“ _Bofur_.” He warned again, jaw clenching.

“Of course, you’ll have to keep in mind he’s much smaller than you. Remember that when you two finally sort out this  _chemistry_ that's been brewing _,_ and you throw him onto your bed and-”

“-Enough!” Thorin ordered harshly, silencing his half-naked companion. “Just… let me talk it out with Dwalin, all right? Will that shut you up?”

Bofur raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. “You better, lad.”

“I will.”

He rolled his eyes, put the milk back in the fridge and gestured for Thorin to head out of the room. “Well, go on then?  _Age before beauty_.”

“ _You arse.”_

 

 ---

 

Thorin knocked on Dwalin’s door softly, trying not to awaken any of his other companions whose bedroom doors lined the hallway he was standing in. The light was on in the bedroom, casting a faint glow from under the door, but still no answer. He knocked again, slightly louder, but nothing stirred in the room.

Assuming Dwalin had his headphones in and was listening to music on his bed, which was often the case, Thorin opened the door slowly and peered into the room warily; only to be met by an empty made bed, and a vacant ensuite. “Alright then…” He muttered to himself, taking a step inside to look around for his closest friend.

He heard a polite cough behind him and turned to see Balin, looking at him with a soft smile. "He checked on poor Ori, you can go see him in there.”

“Brilliant. Right.”

Balin watched him curiously, his warm brown eyes scanning him intently. “If he’s indisposed, you do know you can come talk to me, laddie.”

Thorin chuckled softly. “Yes, I know.”

“Even if it’s about Mister Bilbo.”

He groaned, rubbing his face tiredly. “Not you too.”

“Aye,  _me too_. You’re many things, Thorin, and subtle is not one of them I'm afraid.”

He scratched his beard and stared at the ceiling, trying to look as aloof as possible whilst having a mini internal meltdown. “How did you know?” He asked, still avoiding eye contact.

“Well, for starters, you two fight like cats and dogs.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, sighing. “The man is  _impossible_.”

Balin beamed up at him. “And you’re so easy to get along with, laddie?”

“You  _may_  have a point…”

“Never mind that, you’d best be off and find Dwalin. He’ll be in Ori’s room.” Balin whispered as he opened the door to the hallway, gesturing for him to follow.

Thorin nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Night, Balin.”

“Yes, yes. Now off with you!” He shooed Thorin towards Ori’s door, chuckling to himself. “Go gossip about who you're pining after and braid each other's hair, I’ll be in my room.”

“Your brother is bald, Balin." 

“Fine, braid your  _beards_ , then.”

Thorin flipped Balin off jokingly and headed towards Ori’s door; where he knocked once, heard some movement behind the door, and opened it slowly. He squinted and took a step inside, thankful that the bedside lamp was on and filling the room with a soft, warm light. The last thing he needed was to trip over something on the floor and maim himself. Or for him to have walked in on Dwalin and Ori doing something _adult_ in the dark.

He shook his head roughly, removing the scarring mental image of his best mate _not-wrestling_ with his P.A. This was not the time for such things; he had to find Dwalin and talk through whatever the hell was going on between the fussy Hobbit and himself.

After collecting his erratic thoughts, he took another step inside the room and looked around, eyes searching for the familiar bulk of Dwalin's frame. 

Ori was passed out in his bed face first in just his boxer briefs, a quilt thrown haphazardly over his back. Thorin stifled a laugh behind one hand, his PA looked thoroughly ruined; his hair was an absolute mess and was poking out in all directions. His hangover was definitely going to be horrific the next day.

He entered the room slowly, so as not to awaken the snoring drunk beauty, but Dwalin was nowhere to be seen. Thorin rounded the bed and froze, unsure exactly what he was seeing. Dwalin was passed out on the floor by the bed, barefoot yet still in his suit, a pillow under his head and floral crochet quilt thrown over his legs. He was lying on his side, with one hand under his head, the other hand holding Ori’s, whose arm had fallen out of bed and landed right on his.

Good Lord, he was going to give Dwalin so much shit for this later, the adorableness was off the charts. Ori had a soft smile on his face in his sleep, and Dwalin’s massive fingers were laced with the younger man’s delicate ones so gently and softly, barely holding on. Thorin took his iPhone out and snuck a quick photo, just in case he needed to use it for blackmail later. Dwalin kept tabs on him constantly and gave him grief when he did something stupid, so the photo would most definitely come in handy if he needed Dwalin to ease off a bit. Or if he needed a favour.

Treading softly, Thorin exited the room and walked into his own, pulling off his tie and shirt, and he swapped his attire for navy pyjama bottoms and his grey Oxford hoodie. He washed his face and then pulled out his phone, shooting Balin a quick text.

**TD: Still up?**

**BF: Aye, I’ll pop over in a jiffy. Be a dear and bring out that fine Whiskey I know you have hidden in your desk.**

**TD: Done.**  

Thorin picked up his trousers from the bedroom floor and tidied the room a bit, ensuring it was fit for a guest. The secret Whiskey was pulled out, as were two crystal glasses, and some gourmet dark chocolate he had picked up at the airport. He set the items up on the small wooden table between the two maroon velvet armchairs in the corner of his room, poured a glass for himself, and waited. 

Not five minutes later, a polite knock sounded at the door and Balin’s head came into view, beaming when he caught sight of the cheeky late night snack Thorin had pulled together for them in the corner. He pulled his fluffy red dressing gown tighter around his waist and shuffled in, closing the door behind himself.

Balin rubbed his hands together eagerly, eyeing the table's contents before him. “Why how thoughtful of you Thorin, you even have my favourite chocolate.” 

He gestured for the older man to join him, pouring him a glass. “Aye, I saw it at the airport and thought it may come in handy for one of the late night stretches we always seem to have when we’re travelling.” 

“We do seem to have them a lot, don’t we?” He took a sip and hummed appreciatively. “Though I must warn you, when you become PM I expect a raise, Thorin.” 

Thorin chuckled, as he crossed his legs and leant back in his chair comfortably. “Consider it done.” 

“Cheers to that.” He raised his glass and chinked it with Thorin’s, and took a small sip. “Now, I may be getting old, but I don’t think you invited me over just to give me a raise?”

“I went to talk over some things with Dwalin and he was… busy.” 

Balin raised his eyebrows, shooting him a coy smile. “Did my useless brother finally get his act together with young Ori, then?”

He shook his head. “I fear Ori was unconscious for Dwalin’s small act of interest. I caught him holding Ori's hand while they slept.”

“Oh bless, he’s always been a real romantic, that brother of mine.”

Thorin hummed in agreement, nibbling on a small piece of chocolate. “He won’t do anything bold until he knows Ori feels the same way back, though. He’s worried he doesn’t  _see him that way_. Idiot. We all see the looks Ori shoots him, the man’s besotted.” 

“And you’ve done something  _bold_  for Mister Baggins now, have you?” Balin eyed him sceptically, raising one eyebrow. “I’d say you’re a pot calling the kettle black, but that would be an insult to pots and kettles the world round, with the amount of hypocrisy spilling forth from your mouth.”

“Oh dear, your raise just fell by fifty per cent, how awful.” Thorin replied dryly, taking another sip of the amber liquid.

Balin tutted, shaking his head. “Sarcasm won’t get you far tonight, laddie. Time to pull yourself together and give me a straightforward answer. You’re lucky Dis isn’t here, she would have already batted you over the head thrice by now.” 

“My sister is a menace.”

“Wait, scratch that, she would have batted you over the head four times by now.” Balin took another sip from his glass, and settled back in his chair, turning to face Thorin. “Tell me, what's happening between you and that lovely Bilbo chap?” 

Thorin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When I asked you to come over to talk, I thought you would have had a touch more subtlety and finesse.”

“You’re using your sarcasm again to avoid the question, Thorin.” Balin warned, utterly unimpressed.

He rolled his eyes. “There’s nothing happening, I just find Bilbo… interesting.”

“Well, that’s a start I  _suppose_.” Balin said sarcastically. “You’re impossible to talk to about emotions, you know that?” 

“Well, that topic is all…” He flailed his hands slightly, trying to find the word or gesture that would explain what he was thinking. “… awkward to talk about.”

Balin sighed.  _Time to switch tact_  he though to himself, as he filled both their glasses and leaned back again in his chair, balancing his glass on the armrest. “How long have I known you, Thorin?  _Too long._  You don’t have to be embarrassed about talking these things through with me, you know that?”

“…Yes.” 

“How about I make this easier for you, since you’re obviously not going to rattle on about your feelings for a half hour. I’ll ask you a direct question, and if I could get a direct answer, we can sort this all out and get to bed before five am. Sound acceptable?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Fine, go on.”

“I’ll start with something simple. Do you find the lad sexually attractive?”

Thorin spat out the mouthful of whiskey he was in the middle of drinking, and slammed his fist on his chest, trying to regain his breath. “You said simple!” He managed, between pained breaths.

Balin chortled happily, thoroughly satisfied with Thorin’s reaction. “I’ll take that as a yes then, laddie.”

“You’re enjoying this far too much, Balin. I didn’t think I hired such a sadist.”

“You wound me.” He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “All right, next question. Is this a brief dalliance, or something more serious?”

Thorin scratched the back of his head, staring into his glass as he came up with his answer. “Uh…Well, I’ve only known him a few days, I think it’s too soon to tell. But it’s definitely not a one-time sort of affair.” 

“Wonderful, that’s good to know. He’s a nice lad, that Bilbo. And he's not afraid to tell you off when you’re being a twat.”

“What? How did you know about that?”

Balin tapped his nose, winking up at him. “Let’s just say I have my contacts. And that not every window was closed at the B&B when you and Bilbo had your little tête-à-tête earlier.”

“Brilliant.” Thorin groaned, slumping down in his chair.

“If you do think that this is going to become serious between you two, you will have to tell him everything eventually, you know that.”

“I know…”

“ _Everything_ , Thorin. Erebor, Azog, Smaug, the whole lot.”

“It’s too early to be talking about this, Balin. I barely know the man.” 

“Laddie… If I may be so bold, I’ve never heard someone give it back to you just as much as you dose it out. He… balances you.”

Thorin slumped deeper in his chair; legs sprawled in front of him. “This is ridiculous. We met just over two days ago… And he thinks I’m an utter twat.”

“Let’s just say you have your  _moments_.” 

“That’s beside the point… like I said, it’s still too early to be discussing all of this. He hasn’t even accepted to have dinner with me.”

Balin raised an eyebrow coyly. “So you’re going to ask the lad out soon, then?”

Thorin blushed, coughing awkwardly. “I don’t know. I was thinking of maybe seeing how things go between us, and asking him out sometime next week. Maybe. If we don’t fight again. Or if I don’t cock it all up. At least he’s single?”

“So that security check you made Dwalin do on young Bilbo was slightly for selfish reasons, then?” Balin inquired, crossing his arms.

He spluttered, shaking his head furiously. “I would never abuse my power just to see if he was single or not, Balin. You know that.”

“Aye, Thorin.” He squinted at him, reading his expression. “I believe you. But you best make sure you never do, Bilbo’s a good lad.”

“I know.”

“And he deserves your honesty.” 

“Fine, fine. But not all at once, though. I don’t want to scare him away.”

Balin hummed in agreement, tapping his bottom lip in thought. “How about I go see him tomorrow morning, and explain at least what happened with Azog and your family. It’s a good place to start.”

Thorin nodded, sipping from his glass. “That would be most helpful, thank you.”

“Not a problem, laddie.” 

“Uh…” He scratched his elbow awkwardly. “…And maybe bring him breakfast and a Berocca? He’s going to be awfully hungover in the morning; Bofur ruined him with his drinking games. Bilbo didn’t stand a chance against him, that man has hollow legs, I swear.”

“I’ll ask Bell to whip up something for us in the morning, not to worry.”

“Thanks, really.” 

“Oh, and before I forget, Nori gave me an update earlier about that James Silver fellow.”

He sat up straight in his chair, brow furrowed. “What did he do?”

Balin shook his head. “Nothing to worry about, Thorin, just something to keep an eye on. Mr Silver has recently been made unemployed, so there’s a chance he may be desperate for money. He’s at a higher risk to sell that photo of Bilbo.”

Thorin growled. “That photo can never see the light of day, Balin. It would ruin him.” 

“I know.” He put a hand on Thorin’s wrist, and smiled up at him. “But it would ruin you too, don’t forget that.”

“I can handle it, though. Bilbo isn’t prepared to be in the media or part of a scandal, I would leave Hobbiton before having his respectability ruined.”

“My my, I forgot you’re always so dramatic when it comes to those you care for. Woe betide anyone who stands in your way when you're looking out for Bilbo, I tell you.” Balin chuckled, shaking his head.

“Piss off.” He mumbled half-heartedly, blushing slightly.

“Don’t have a go at me because I’m right, laddie.” He tutted amusedly. “But I’ll tell you this, that Bilbo is stronger than he looks.”

“ _You’re telling me_ ; today he nearly tore my head clean off.”

Balin grinned up at him. “I can’t  _wait_  till he meets Dis. That is going to be a sight to see, I’m sure.”

“Christ almighty, they can never  _ever_  meet. I wouldn’t survive.” Thorin groaned, head in his hands.

“You’re lucky she’s sorting out your affairs in London while you’re over here. Otherwise I’m sure they would already be thick as thieves.”

“Oh God stop, please. I can’t even  _think_  about them together, I’ll have a coronary.”

“Fine, I’m stopping.” Balin emptied his glass and stood slowly, grunting at the effort. “And I am much older than I look, apparently. Getting out of a chair gets harder each time, I tell you.”

Thorin stood as well, placing a hand on Balin’s shoulder companionably. “Thank you for tonight, my friend.”

Balin batted his hand away, tutting self deprecatingly. “It was nothing, laddie. You know you can come talk to me anytime.”

A text alert sounded in Thorin’s pocket, which he ignored for the time being. “Still, my thanks.”

“Yes, yes. Now I’m off to bed, and you better see who is texting you at this ridiculous hour.”

“Night, Balin.”

“Aye, goodnight.” He replied happily, as he opened the door and closed it behind himself quietly. 

Thorin pulled his phone out, seeing the text was from an unknown number, and swiped it unlocked.

**No Caller ID: Been hme safe for a whille, shame i didnt take yoou up on your offer t walk with me. Wuld have invitedd you upstairs nd climbed that lik a tree. Nxt time maybee. Billbo.**

He gulped dryly, re-reading the text for the third time.

“ _Christ_ , he is going to get me in so much trouble.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo rolled over, trying for the third time that morning to get back to sleep, his hangover so bad that he couldn’t stand to be conscious for it a moment longer than he had to. He wiggled deeper into his blankets, sighing happily at the extra darkness, and clenched his eyes shut, desperate for sleep.  
  
-knock knock-  
  
“Fuck off mate, there is  _no way in hell_  I’m answering that.” He grumbled, rolling over so he didn’t face his bedroom window.

 -Knock! Knock! Knock!-

“Still no."

His phone started vibrating and bouncing about on his bedside table.

“Nope. Ain’t moving an inch.”

It fell off the nightstand and started rattling the books on the floor, making one hell of a racket. Bilbo pulled the blankets over his head, tried to block out the noise to no avail, and gave up.

“Fine! You win, whoever-the-hell you are!” He half-reached, half-flopped out of the bed, covering his eyes in the bright light with one hand, and patted the floor blindly for his phone with the other. He checked the screen –  **Missed call, No Caller ID.**

His phone started ringing once more, and he picked it up on the second ring.

“This better be a bloody emergency, or so help me God, I’ll murder you and make it look like an accident.”

A warm, hearty chuckle sounded on the other end of the phone. “My, my. When Nori told me you were a touch worse for wear last night, I didn’t know you were that far gone. If it makes you feel better, Bofur slept in the bath last night in naught but his pants because Bell didn’t allow him to ruin her good guest bed.”

“Wha? Balin?”

“Well, aren’t you a sharp one this morning, laddie.” Balin tutted affectionately.

“Yeah, you try having one hell of a hangover two days in a row.”

“I’ve already had one this week and that’s quite enough for me, thank you laddie. But enough of that, if you would kindly let me inside out of the cold, I’d be very thankful.”

“I’m dying.”

“I have a greasy breakfast and Berocca with me."

“Be down in a minute.” Bilbo heard Balin’s chuckle as he rung off, and put his phone back on the bedside table. He sat up slowly, scrunching his eyes closed as his stomach flipped. “Christ, this is a bad one.”

He pulled on an old navy hoodie that was on the end of his bed, slipped his iPhone in the front pocket, and walked around his room in just that and his white pants for a few moments while he looked for some clean trousers; groaning hoarsely every time he had to bend down. A suitable pair was eventually found, some green trousers from a few days previous, and he pulled them on while he perched on his bed.

A knock sounded at the door again; reminding him he had a guest out front, and a breakfast that was cooling down by the minute. He opened his bedroom door and checked his reflection in the hallway mirror quickly. Bilbo looked absolutely haggard, so he tried his best to make himself more presentable and smoothed down his riot of curls haphazardly with his fingers. Once he was happy he headed down the stairs, towards the front door.

“Sorry, coming!” He called out, his bare feet slapping loudly against the cold tiled floor.

Bilbo pulled open the front door and was met by a beaming Balin, who pulled him in for a crushing hug, making him squeak at the sudden embrace.

“Sorry laddie, forgot you’re hungover.” Balin smiled apologetically. “You don’t look half as awful as Ori, so you have that at least.”

“Uh, thank you? I think?”

Balin grinned and held up a basket, shaking it pointedly. “Well, let’s get you sorted, shall we? Belle has made you her esteemed  _Goodchild Hangover Cure Breakfast_ , so we’ll have you right as rain in no time.”

Bilbo opened the door wider, gesturing for the older man to come join him inside. “You’re an  _angel_ , Balin.”

The two shuffled inside the kitchen, where Balin unpacked the basket and Bilbo found plates. Two egg and bacon rolls, six hash browns and four grilled tomatoes were divvied up; and Bilbo made them both a strong coffee to wash it all down with. They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, perched on stools at the kitchen island, the sounds of slurps and cutlery on plates the only noises in the small room.

Once finished, Bilbo leaned back on his stool, patting his small belly happily. “That was amazing, Balin. I really owe you one, I don’t know how I’d have lasted the day without it.”

Balin chuckled. “You’re most welcome, Bilbo. I’ll tell Bell her breakfast was greatly appreciated.”

He hummed in agreement, taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee. “It truly was.” Bilbo eyed Balin curiously, the older man still hadn’t mentioned why he had come to visit so early that morning.

Very aware of Bilbo eyeing him, Balin cleared his throat and pulled his glasses from his pocket, putting them on. He sat forward on his stool, and moved their dirty plates aside, out of reach. “So, Mister Bilbo. I’m guessing you’re just about to ask me why I’m here, yes?”

Bilbo nodded. “Uh, yes. Not that I don’t enjoy having visitors or anything of that sort, it’s just, with your lot’s track record of popping up uninvited, I’m about to be either interrogated or asked over to dinner.”

“I’m here to tell you a little about why we’re here in Hobbiton.”

He froze. “Oh.” 

“You see, laddie… the reason why everyone has been so quiet about why we’re here, is because it's not very pleasant to talk about; and it brings up old memories when we do." He took another sip from his coffee, offering a small smile to Bilbo. “It’s personal, and rather complicated. Thorin doesn’t like us talking about it much, makes him remember the past.”

“Yes, I’ve definitely picked up the hint that Thorin doesn’t like talking about it at  _all._ ” Bilbo added sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Balin sighed. “Aye, he really doesn’t. And when you learn why, you’ll understand.” He cleared his throat. “Tell me, when you met Smaug, were there any other men with him? Perhaps a tall, scarred chap? Looks like the kind of man who could break your neck with just his little toe?”

Bilbo tapped his chin. “Hmm… I think so? Was he really pale, his skin looking near-white? An absolutely terrifying man, he gave me the chills."

“That’s the one. His name is Azog, he’s the head of Smaug’s Secret Service. Well, I use that term loosely, essentially he leads a pack of hired thugs. He has absolutely no morals or regret, and he will do anything Smaug asks him to. Anyone who crosses him ‘dissapears’.”

“And you’re telling me this because…”

“He killed Thorin’s parents and his younger brother, Frerin.”

“And this man is working for Smaug… who might be our next PM?” Bilbo shook his head. “This is all sounding too far fetched, honestly. Wait, don’t tell me, it was an inside job and nobody fucking saw it coming.”

Balin shrugged noncommittedly. “We don’t know if it was an inside job, or if one of the staff let Azog inside, but it was indeed a surprise attack.”

“Wait. What do you mean  _let inside_?”

“A fire was started at night in the main wing of the Durin Estate, and somehow the doors were all barred shut… Thorin didn’t reach them fast enough; they had all passed by the time he made his way inside. Dis had to hold him back, so he didn’t dive in and burn alive with them.”

Bilbo rubbed his face tiredly. “Balin, this is all really awful, _truly_ , and I'm sorry this happened... but I fear it is far too early in the morning and I am way too hungover for this level of serious conversation right now.” He sculled the rest of his coffee. “Please, just tell me why I need to know this.”

“If Smaug comes back to Hobbiton and Thorin is here, I don’t know what will happen. We think he aimed to kill Thorin that night, but he was called out on business with Dis suddenly and wasn’t inside when it happened. He may try to harm Thorin again.”

“Please tell me you're joking."

Balin raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem to be joking with you, laddie?”

“Sorry, just… wow.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed tiredly. “So, what happened after the fire?”

“The next day Smaug came into the city with a small army, blaming the fire on a gas leak from the main goldmine of Erebor, which runs under the entire island and into the Lonely Mountain. His men started badgering people in the streets, saying we all had two days to evacuate or we would all be removed _forcibly_ , and that the island wasn’t safe anymore due to the mines. The city was in riots for two days straight, until they started  _silencing_  people, and we were all thrown out.”

“ _Fucking hell._ ”

“Smaug also had a team of scientists on his payroll, who were the ones who reported the whole island unstable. They claimed that we had mined the land so far down that we had ruined the bedrock, and destroyed the island so thoroughly that it was on the brink of collapsing in on itself.”

“But how did he get away with it all?”

“Smaug gave those scientific reports to the Government, put a media ban on the island, and told everyone else we had been given six months to move out. Nobody was the wiser.”

Bilbo groaned and slid off his stool, and started to make himself another cup of coffee. “When Smaug was here last, I saw him with a bunch of men with identity tags and clipboards… If those were the same scientists, we’re screwed."

“I was worried that was the case.” Balin shook his head. “But it’s too close to tell, when he visited Hobbiton last Smaug only brought a small handful of people with him, and was here for only three days. We think he was just scoping out the place; we might have nothing to worry about, laddie.”

“We should prepare for the worst, though.”

“Aye, Bilbo. We already are.” Balin cleared his throat pointedly. “Actually, I had a favour to ask of you in regards to that.”

Bilbo turned around slowly, squinting at him cynically. “What now…”

“We’re going to be here much longer than we thought, and when everyone arrives tonight we won’t have enough beds in the B&B… the cottage next to yours is still available for rent, would it be too much of a bother for you if we all moved next door today?”

“What, you lot…  _Next door?_ All of you?”

Balin cleared his throat. “Aye, all 13 of us.”

 _“Thirteen?”_ Bilbo near-wailed, taking a step back. “There are _thirteen_ of you... and you’ll be right next door… _all the time?_ "

“You’re lucky I don’t easily take offence, laddie. Mind your words now.”

He shook his head. “Right, er. That should be fine. As long you lot don’t keep me up late with your drinking and singing.”

“We’ll keep it down to a dull roar, not to worry.” Balin’s eyes twinkled. “And of course, you’re most welcome to join Thorin and the company for dinner when you want, we have an open door policy for our friends.”

Bilbo blushed. “Right. Yes. Dinner. With Thorin.”

“Aye lad, and the rest of us of course.” 

“Y-yes, of course.” He replied softly, eyes fuzzy and unfocussed.

Balin clapped his hands together, stirring Bilbo out of his daze. “ _Well_. I’m sure you have a lot to do today, I won’t keep you any longer.”

“Right. Yes. Thanks again for the breakfast, and everything.”

He chuckled warmly, slid off his stool and clasped Bilbo on the shoulder. “And thanks for listening, Bilbo. I know you’re in a right state this morning, so I appreciate it.”

“If any of you need anything from the pantry for dinner tonight, don't hesitate to come over and pick something up, I have more than enough.”

“That’s very kind of you laddie, I’ll make sure to tell Bombur.”

“Well, we’re going to be neighbours, best start acting like them I suppose.”

Balin laughed softly. “Aye, you’ll be sick of us before you know it.”

“What, sick of you lot? _Never_.”

He rolled his eyes. “You'd be surprised." He fetched the empty breakfast containers, put them back in the basket and looped it on his elbow. "I'll show myself out, not to worry. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, laddie."

Bilbo chuckled. "Yes, I'll see you soon. Look after yourself, yeah?"

The older man winked at him cheekily. "I'll do my very best."

 

\---

 

Bilbo leaned heavily on the kitchen bench, thoroughly exhausted. His day had started pretty abysmally, with the hangover from hell, but that was just the start. Except for his pleasant breakfast interlude with Balin, his day had just become steadily worse.

Firstly, in his hungover state, he had tripped over his own feet on the way to open up the Teahouse and had scraped his left elbow up pretty bad, ruining one of his favourite grey cardigans. 

Next, Ted Sandyman had come in for his first day at work, and was absolutely _useless_. Bilbo was patient with the lad and talked him through everything at least twice, but the boy just didn't _get it._ Some people are made for customer service, and Ted Sandyman was most certainly  _not_ one of them _._  In the space of only one hour he had broken two teacups, a floral teapot and Bilbo's favourite Moroccan tea glass. 

To say the boy was clumsy would be the understatement of the century. He was like a spider on roller-skates; all gangly limbs with no sense of direction whatsoever.

Bilbo had ended up sending Ted home early, the lad being far more trouble than he was worth. He had apologised continuously and explained that he was just overly nervous; so Bilbo has given him another chance, and asked him to come in the next day for another two-hour trial. Hopefully the teenager would have his act together by then.

And finally, the highlight of the day, in his frazzled state he had dropped a boiling teapot of water down Old Mrs Buttons' hand; and had had to send her to Bree Hospital with a kitchen towel filled with ice taped to her hand till she got there. Luckily, a regular customer was able to drive her to the hospital, and Bilbo had decreed they would both have as much free tea as they could drink, forever. It was the least he could do.

Mrs Buttons had been overly polite about the whole thing, asking if he was all right, which made the whole situation even worse. He had never felt so guilty; she was the one with burns and was in pain, but was asking what was wrong with _him_ and why he was so stressed. 

“What a fucking _day_.”

Bilbo leant down and peered at his soufflé's in the oven through the glass door, checking they hadn't deflated while he had been moping over what had happened to him. He was a stress-baker through and through, and today called for chocolate and raspberry soufflés to ease the pain a little.

His stress baking had first started in uni, beginning with little treats like biscuits or small tarts; and had slowly yet surely turned into a full blown gourmet endeavour that had him visiting the markets nearly every weekend to stock up his panty with anything he might need for a spur of the moment baking session. 

Last week had been caramelised fig tarts, the week previous bread and butter pudding. He was very thankful he walked everywhere; otherwise he would have easily grown as wide as he was tall by the age of 30.

The oven timer buzzed, stirring him into action. He reached for his black and mint green polka dot oven mitts, placed the tray of ramekins on the stove top, pulled out a metal skewer and tested his first soufflé. It came out clean, his soufflé was perfect.

He sighed happily to himself and tested the five other deserts, all also passing the test. Bilbo mused to himself that he might have had one of the worst days he'd had that year, but at least he could make a mean soufflé.   

"Swings and roundabouts I suppose." He chuckled to himself, as he put a tea towel over the ramekins as they cooled and tucked it under the tray to keep it in place. Once happy with his snug soufflés, he set about making a berry compote to serve them with.

"Now, where did I put those damn raspberries..." Bilbo opened the fridge door and squatted down, trying to rustle through the fruit and veg drawer to find the elusive berries. "Bloody. Useless. Giant. Cocking. Fridge." He grumbled under his breath as he reached forward as far as he could, his fingertips only grazing the plastic container containing the fruit.

He reached even further into the fridge, his body now twisted to the side as his shoulder dug into the cold crisper. "How the hell did you get so far away!" Bilbo groaned, still not reaching far enough.

A polite cough sounded behind him, making him freeze. He turned around, arm still shoulder-deep in the fridge, to see a grinning Bofur peering down at him. "Please don't think that I'm not enjoying this spectacular view of your arse, Bilbo, but would you like some help over there?"

"Why hello there, _neighbour_. What brings you here, uninvited, to my kitchen on this fine evening?" He replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

Bofur chuckled, shaking his head. "Your back door was open lad, it seemed a good enough way as any to come say hello." 

"Right, I keep forgetting your lot don't understand the concept of being invited over _before_ you visit."

He tutted amusedly. "My, aren't you in a sour mood tonight. What's got you all worked up, eh?"

Bilbo gave up on his quest in the fridge, closed it behind himself and leant against it tiredly. "The day from _hell_ , that's what."

"From _hell_ , you say?" He whistled sympathetically. "Hangover that awful, lad?"

"That was just the start of this God awful day." He rubbed his temples in slow, circular movements. "I just need some tea, a soufflé, and some _fucking raspberry compote_. Then I'll be fine."

"Any chance you've got enough pudding for two?"

"If you work for it, there's a ramekin with your name on it that you can take back to your Cottage." Bofur raised an eyebrow cheekily. “Not a favour like _that_ , Bofur. Heavens."

He chuckled. "Well, when you're as attractive as I am, you just can't be too careful with requests from people you barely know."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "It's you lot who I have to look out for, not the other way round, you prat. I have been hungover for two straight days because of you all!"

"We never forced any wine down your throat, Mister Bilbo, you've nobody to blame but yourself." He rolled up his sleeves. "So, what did you need as payment for those heavenly smelling deserts of yours?"

"Fetch me those bloody raspberries and we have a deal."

 "Done."

 

\---

 

“Right… so you’ve got your pastry sheets for Bombur, a soufflé for you both and some fresh Basil. Anything else you needed?” Bilbo asked as he busied himself around the kitchen, fetching items and placing them in a small woven basket.

Bofur peered into the basket, lifting up the red checkered tea towel that had been placed on top. “No lad, that should be enough.” Thunder rumbled in the distance, making them both pause and look outside. “And I should probably be off, don’t want to get caught outside in bad weather.”

“Of course, and I have some laundry to take off the line before the weather hits. You’ll pop in tomorrow to return the basket, yes?”

“I said I would lad, don’t you worry your pretty head. I’ll return your lovely basket.”

“It’s an _antique_.” He grumbled under his breath, making Bofur smile.

“I’ll take _extra care_ , promise. Now you best get your washing put away, and I need to get back to Bombur before I get an earful for making him wait.” 

Bilbo walked ahead and opened the kitchen door, beckoning for him to follow. “Don’t you go ruining that basket, now.”

He shook his head, laughing softly as he followed the shorter man outside. “You worry too much, Bilbo.”

“Piss _off_.”

Bofur grinned cheekily and walked backwards, headed towards his cottage. “Thanks again for the pudding, lad.” He winked and turned around; then began whistling to himself as he jumped over the small stone fence separating their properties, and headed inside.

Bilbo clapped his hands together, and looked up towards the drying clothes in his back garden. “Right. Better get this wretched washing back inside before the rain hits…” He mumbled to himself as he walked up the hill towards the clothesline, and picked up his upturned laundry basket on the way. 

After setting it down at his feet, he started pulling the clothes off hurriedly, hearing the rumbling in the distance draw nearer and increase in volume. He pulled off a dress shirt far too hastily and heard a small rip, making him swear angrily under his breath. “Fucking _useless_ bloody shirt, I can’t even take a peg of a shirt without cocking it up”-

“-Everything all right over here?” 

He spun around to see Thorin watching him, a coy smile in place. Bilbo groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you people _always_ make such a habit of sneaking up on other people, or am I just lucky? Seriously. You could just, I don't know,  _text_  or something.”

Thorin coughed uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. “Uh, sorry.”

Bilbo eyed him suspiciously. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘ _what'_?”

He took a step closer. “Why are you all…  _weird_? Is this because I didn’t text you when I got home last night?" Bilbo crossed his arms. "I was pretty drunk, Thorin. There’s no way in hell I would have been able to handle an iPhone in my state.”

Thorin’s eyes widened. “Of course, yes. That’s why. You had me… worried. Because you definitely _did not_ text me. No, not at all."

“You’re acting really peculiarly, Thorin. Is everything all right?”

“It’s all… fine.”

“Right.” He frowned. “Well, I’m going to continue taking this washing off the line, so you can either help me or talk at me while you hover over my shoulder, it’s up to you.”

“I can help. "

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Oh really now? And when was the last time you did your own washing, hmm?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Extra points for trying, right?”

“I'm suddenly regretting asking you for your help.”

Thorin harrumphed, hands on his hips. “Do you want some help before the rain comes or not?”

“Fine, fine. Make yourself useful and grab those socks there."

The politician walked over and started pulling socks down from the line, making an amused noise as he unpegged a head-achingly vibrant pair of pink socks. "Did you buy these to match your pink hair curler?"

"Piss off... They're _salmon_."

He laughed softly, putting them in the basket below him. "Of course, my apologies."

They took down the clothes in companionable silence; Bilbo sneaking a few looks at Thorin to try and gauge what was actually going on. He eventually became tired of the deafening quiet, and loudly cleared his throat. "So, I'm still mad at you about yesterday."

Thorin didn't make eye contact, and continued unpegging the shirt that he was focused on. "I expected as much."

"You know you were out of line, right?"

He sighed. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that I suppose..."

Bilbo let out a loud bark of laughter, catching the older man off guard. "You think?" He pulled a pair of navy trousers off the line roughly, scrunched them up in his hands and tossed them into the basket. "I'm a bastard at the best of times, I know this, but yesterday you really took the fucking cake."

"It won't happen again, you have my word." Thorin looked him in the eye. "I am embarrassed by how I treated you."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really, though? I'm warning you, next time I will snap your head off. I promise."

"Like I said, it won't happen again."

He eyed the older man warily, nodded in acceptance, and returned to his task of pulling a black cardigan off the line. "If you say so."

The two continued their task in peace, Thorin maintaining a running commentary on what items of Bilbo's he found either amusing or tasteful. Nearly done with the washing, they simultaneously reached out for a pair of black pants and Bilbo swatted his hand away, scowling up at the taller man. "You really don't need to touch those, that's quite fine."

"I don't mind." He admitted while Bilbo eyed him incredulously, making him stutter. "I-I mean, they're just... Pants."

"You still don't need to touch them, mate. I promise I won't get offended."

"It's fine, I'm not squeamish."

"Are you saying pants _usually_  make you squeamish?"

Thorin groaned. "No, I'm just saying, mine often get mixed up with Fili and Kili's, so it doesn't bother me... Touching other peoples pants."

Bilbo smirked up at him. "So that explains why you have your name written on the tag of yours." He froze, suddenly realising what he had admitted. "I mean... Err"

He watched the shorter man fumble his words, enjoying his discomfort immensely. "I see you went through my suitcase just as thoroughly as I did with yours. Seems fair."

"Well... I didn't know who it belonged to, so I sort of.... Had a look around."

"And subsequently unfolded my pants, _had a look inside_ , and found my name on the tag."

"Bloody hell, when you put it like that you make me sound like some sort of _deviant_."

"Well, are you?" He asked slyly, raising an eyebrow.

Bilbo's eyes widened. "And just  _what_ are you insinuating, exactly?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I was just teasing, you really need to calm down... What has you so uptight?"

"Just a horrible day, really."

Thorin hummed in agreement, as he unpegged a pair of lime green socks from the line, and tossed them in the basket. "It seems we have that in common, I've had a bit of a shocker today myself."

"After we're done here you should come in for a cup of tea, or maybe something a little stronger." He asked casually, then when he realised what he has asked, froze up. "I-I mean if you want, there's no pressure or anything or... Christ."

The taller man smiled softly down at him. "Sure, that sounds great."

"Right. Yes." Bilbo stared down at the basket, now filled with all the clothes from the line. Thorin threw the last shirt in the basket, stirring him from the mini meltdown he was internalising. 

Thunder rumbled in the background, triggering them both into action. Thorin leant down and picked up the basket, gesturing for Bilbo to lead. "Come on then, before the rain ruins all our hard work."

Bilbo nodded and shuffled down the hill, Thorin in tow. He opened the kitchen door for his guest and held it open, waiting for the taller man to come through. “Just place that down on the bench, I’ll deal with it later.”

“Sure thing.” He looked around the red, black and white kitchen curiously, not hiding his interest.

“It’s just a kitchen, it isn’t _that_ exciting. Surely you’ve entered one or two in your time.”

“Hilarious.” He placed the basket down, and continued looking about. “It’s… cosy. I like it.”

The shorter man put the kettle on, and pulled out two of his best teacups and saucers. “My mother did it up, she was rather good at all that interior design business. Did most of the rooms, too.”

Thorin hummed in response as he walked forward, poking his head into the hallway. “This place is far larger than I thought it was, it looks so small and quaint from the font.”

“It’s built into the hill, so that hides most of the back rooms.” He placed a teabag in each of the cups, ignoring Thorin’s investigation going on behind him. “Don’t move anything…and don’t mention the Christmas decorations. I’ll get around to putting them away eventually.”

His muffled laugh was heard a few rooms down, from the lounge. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Bilbo added the boiling water to the teacups, smiling as he inhaled the familiar scent of steeping tealeaves. “Any milk or sugar?”

“None for me, thanks.”

“Right.” He added milk and sugar to his own, threw out the tea bags and walked down the hallway, joining Thorin in the lounge, who had his hands on his hips as his eyes scanned Bilbo’s multitude of bookcases. “Here, tea’s done.”

Thorin turned and smiled down at him, as he took the cup and saucer in hand. “Cheers, Bilbo.” He took a sip and returned to the bookcases, not yet done with his investigation. “How many books do you think you have?”

Bilbo sat on his favourite armchair and bit his lip, trying to come up with a number. “Uh, I think I’m up to a few hundred now, I have two bookcases in my bedroom and another four in the study… plus others just stacked around the house in piles.”

“You could almost start a library with all these books.” He sipped his tea, the dainty floral saucer looking amusingly small in his giant, weathered hands. “Have you read all of them?”

“Well, I did English Lit at University, so most of them I have read.”

“I did a few Lit subjects when I was at Oxford, the reading lists are ridiculous.”

Bilbo snorted, the sound echoing inside his teacup. “Well, it is English Literature, Thorin. What did you expect?”

Thorin spun around and looked down at him, shrugging indifferently. “Just less reading, I suppose. Thank Christ I lived on campus, otherwise my bag would have weighed a tonne.”

“I had to do a sort of funny waddle when I had my satchel filled with books at Uni, made me look like I was doing a walk of shame.” He blushed bright red. “Which I never did… Not that anything is _wrong_ with that… I mean...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, resting his teacup on his knee. “Whatever. I’m fucking _exhausted_.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened today?” Thorin asked as he strolled across the room and sat across from Bilbo on the large maroon couch.

“I fell over, then my new Teahouse worker was absolutely _awful_ , then I poured boiling water on a lovely old woman… you know, standard day at the office.”

He whistled sympathetically. “That is _quite_ a day.”

Bilbo ran his hand through his curls, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Too fucking right.” He placed his teacup on the table between them, and crossed his legs. “But I’m over talking about it, how was yours so awful?”

“Running around after Fili and Kili mostly, those boys are a nuisance.”

“They seem lovely, if not a bit cheeky.”

Thorin let out an amused huff. “ _Cheeky_ is not the word I would use. They take after their mother far too much.” He had a sip of his tea, and rested it back on his thigh. “They certainly don’t have an issue being heard, that’s for sure.”

He hummed in agreement and they both sat silently for a few minutes, staring into the fire. Bilbo felt his body start to relax and he slumped down in his chair, the fire’s heat seeping into his very bones. Thorin watched him out of the corner of his eye subtly, enjoying the way the fire made his hair look almost ginger in the warm firelight.

“Did you want me to leave?” He asked softly, his deep voice barely heard over the crackling fire.

Bilbo turned to look at him, confused expression on his face. “Did I say something wrong? Or-”

Thorin chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s just that you look like you’re about to fall asleep any second.”

He shuffled down his armchair further, now fully slumped down. “I really could, but I don’t want to be rude…”

“I’ll go, it’s fine.”

“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m being an awful host.” He rubbed his nose and sat up straight, blinking slowly as he tried to wake himself up. “Tell me more about your day, then.”

“Here, give me that.” Thorin stood and took Bilbo’s teacup, ignoring his fussy noises, and swatted away his smaller hands as he tried to take the teacups away from him. “No, let me. I’ll put these in the kitchen and then go, I can tell you’re exhausted. I’m overstaying my welcome.”

Bilbo grumbled under his breath but didn’t refuse, remaining in his seat as he watched Thorin leave for the kitchen and return, the taller man now leaning against the lounge room doorframe. “I’m an awful host, sorry.”

“Not at all, it’s getting late anyway.”

He stood slowly to his feet and stretched, scrunching his eyes closed, missing how Thorin’s eyes had darkened and trailed down to his pert arse as Bilbo cracked his back. “I’ll walk you out, then.”

Thorin nodded, stepping away from the doorframe and out into the hallway. “Thanks for the tea.”

“Not a problem at all, you’re welcome to come join me anytime.” He responded, ending the sentence with a loud yawn. “You know, if you’re around. Or free. I’m sure you’re always busy. And have other people to _tea_ with. Wait. That sounded like I was insinuating something…” Bilbo groaned at his own awkward display. “Just… come over for tea whenever, yeah?”

The politician chuckled, as Bilbo opened the front door for him and rubbed his hands together in the cold night air. “Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”

Bilbo bit his lip, as if deliberating something, and then stood on his tippy-toes, grabbed Thorin by the shoulders and kissed him on his beardy cheek. He lowered himself quickly, avoiding eye contact, and blushed bright red. “It was… nice. We should _tea_ again soon.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. Thorin was able to do speeches in front of thousands of people, and on live radio, but as soon as it came to getting a kiss on the cheek from a cute Teahouse owner, he was rendered utterly useless. “That would be… nice.”

The shorter man beamed up at him. “Okay, well, night Thorin.”

“Night.” Thorin headed out the front door and turned around a few steps later, offering a small smile to Bilbo, who returned it instantly. He heard Bilbo’s front door close behind him, and let out a ragged breath.

Bilbo had kissed him on the cheek. So far so good.

He checked his phone, re-reading the drunken text Bilbo had sent the night previous, a grin blossoming on his face.

 

“Climb me like a tree, eh? I’m starting to like the sound of that.”

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that chapter became like twice as long as I had aimed for,  
> Whoops.  
> Also, I uploaded this while I was half awake, so hopefully this chapter makes sense...
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the little Thorin interlude,  
> Thought it would be fun to mix it up a little.
> 
> This fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies if I mess up anything...
> 
> Comments most welcome!
> 
> I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can.


	6. The Cheese Scone Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted Sandyman continues being useless at the Teahouse,  
> Ori pops in for a visit,  
> And Bilbo borrows some cheese from next door.
> 
> What can go wrong?

Bilbo hurried down the narrow walkway, dodging customers as he balanced a teapot and two cups and saucers in his hands. He sat them down carefully in front of the customers, smiling broadly, trying his best to hide his tiredness. 

"All right lads, we've got a lovely Lapsang Souchong and two cups." Bilbo put his hands behind his back, at parade rest.  "Anything else I can get you two today?"

The red-haired man on his left coughed awkwardly. "Real sorry to do this to you Mister Bilbo, but we actually ordered Irish Breakfast." He sniffed the teapot and scrunched his nose in distaste. "Did you burn it or sommat? It smells strange."

"No, my dear Brandybuck, it's meant to smell that way, it's a traditional Chinese black tea." 

"I don't mind where it's from, Bilbo, but I know my tea and this one smells burnt."

Bilbo clenched his jaw, restraining himself from rolling his eyes of flipping his customer off. "Yes, well, I suppose some people like it like that. But never mind that, I'll go get you the right tea then." He picked the teapot up carefully, ensuring nobody, including himself, got burnt. "Sorry about all this Gents, I'll be back in just one moment."

He shuffled back behind the counter, where Ted Sandyman was holding up two order receipts, concernedly looking between them. Bilbo put the teapot by the sink and fetched a new one, filling it with the correct tealeaves as he watched Ted, who was still standing there like an idiot. 

"So, the order got mixed up again, and table four got the wrong tea."

Ted bit his lip worriedly, and looked up from his receipt conundrum. "Uhh, that may have been me? I just gave a teapot of Irish Breakfast to table nine and she rolled her eyes at me, said _'I'd never drink that awful stuff, I only drink the finest Chinese tea.'_ Whoops _."_

"Did you fix it up and get her the right tea, then?" He asked patiently.

"I wanted to make sure I got the right one, but I couldn't find the receipt... I think I threw it out?"

He sighed softly, not letting Ted see his frustration. "It was the Lapsang, I've put it near the sink. Go run it out to her and take a rose macaron, they're her favourite. And apologise, yeah?"

The flustered teen nodded hurriedly, grabbed the teapot and French desert and sped towards Mrs Bracegirdle, who was eyeing him distastefully. Bilbo watched him flounder and apologise, but was satisfied when he saw the snobby old woman give Ted a small nod, and seemed content with the macaron appeasement. 

He finished brewing the tea and ran it back to table four, apologised at least three times, and gave them each a small slice of apple flan to make up for the wait. The two customers offered Bilbo the usual ' _ohh that's so nice of you, you didn't have to'_ , and Bilbo politely responded that _it was the least he could do_ ; the hollow niceties being exchanged for what he felt was the tenth time that day.

If the day continued way the way it was going, he was going to run out of cakes and sweets by early afternoon. Ted was absolutely useless, nothing had changed since yesterday.

Bilbo made himself a shot of espresso and sculled it down, ignoring the slight burn in his throat as he did so. "Ted, why don't you wash some dishes for a little while, eh? The orders have calmed down, I can handle it out here."

Ted nodded eagerly, looking relieved. "That would be brilliant, thanks Mister Bilbo." 

"I'll call you if I need you, yeah? Keep an ear out." 

"Yes sir, not to worry." He turned and scurried into the small dishwasher area, and started piling all the dirty crockery up by the sink. 

Bilbo leant on the counter, eyeing the Teahouse before him. "He is most definitely staying out back for the rest of the shift, Christ."

 

\---

 

Bilbo finished counting the register for the third time, and gave up. He wasn't going to find that twenty pounds hiding anywhere, it was most definitely gone. 

"Fuck, again?" He rubbed his eyes tiredly, letting out a loud groan. "I'm down twenty pounds and I don't have enough sweets and scones for tomorrow. Brilliant."

He put the days earnings into the safe under the counter and closed it, wincing as he stood up again. "Well, at least I have an excuse to cook all evening."

His phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out and swiped it unlocked. 

**OR: Hi, it's Ori. I was wondering if it suited you tonight if I popped round? I wanted to borrow the recipe of whatever you were cooking last night. We could smell it through the whole cottage, it smelled amazing. Ori.**

**BB: Of course you can come over, anytime after 7 suits me.**

**OR: Brilliant, you're a lifesaver. See you tonight.**

Bilbo chuckled to himself and slid the phone back into his pocket. Finally, somebody who could actually text him instead of popping up unannounced. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, turned off the lights and walked out the front door, locking it behind himself. 

"An un-eventful night in is just what I need after this bastard of a day, I think." He mumbled to himself as he started walking up the hill, towards home. 

 

\---

 

A polite knock sounded on the kitchen door, announcing Ori's arrival. Bilbo dusted the flour off his hands onto his mint green and black polka dot apron and opened the door, met by Ori's wide grin.

"Come in, come in! Lovely to see you." He kissed him on the cheek in greeting, straining his neck to ensure he didn't get flour all over his guest. "Sorry about all the mess, I'm baking up the proverbial storm over here.”

Ori unwound the large purple knitted scarf from his neck, gazing around the room eagerly with wide eyes. “I knew this place would be lovely and cosy, and I was right. It really is a beautiful home, Bilbo. You must be very proud.”

Bilbo batted the compliment away self deprecatingly, shaking his head. “It was inherited; I’ve done none of the work, I assure you.” He pointed a thumb to the teacups behind himself. “Tea?”

“Some tea would be lovely, thank you.”

He gestured for his guest to sit by the kitchen island, and started making tea for them both. “I also have some fresh lemon tarts if you’d like one?”

“Bombur made us a huge pasta for dinner, but there’s always room for desert. Definitely, yes please.”

“Excellent.” He plated up a tart and handed it over, whilst the teas brewed on the kitchen bench. “So, what’s news? Been cleaning up Thorin’s mess all over Hobbiton?”

Ori giggled, covering his mouth with one hand as he chewed his desert. “He hasn’t had a fight with anyone today, so that’s good.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow amusedly. “Fights, eh? I should be jealous, thought I was the only lucky one who got to go head to head with that stubborn mountain of a man.”

“He keeps offending the locals, mentioning how _small and defenceless_ Hobbiton is.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. “I’ve sent out so many ‘With Comps’ cards and bottles of Champagne the past few days, I feel I deserve writing one for myself for having to write them all.”

“You definitely should, I can imagine it must be a tiring job running about after him all day, getting him from A to B.”

“It’s not so bad, actually. He treats me more like a little brother than a P.A. since I’ve known him so long.”

Bilbo hummed in agreement as he returned to the tea, pulling out the teabags. “Milk and sugar?”

“White with one, thanks.” Ori responded, as he took another bite of his tart.

He added the milk and sugar and joined Ori at the kitchen island, pulling over a stool for himself. “So, anything else happening?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You know, with Dwalin?”

Ori blushed bright red, and bit his lip. “I think so? Maybe? I’m not sure…” He took a sip of tea, and stared down into his teacup as he talked. “You know the other night, when we got really drunk? Well, Dwalin was worried that I might choke on my vomit in my sleep, or something along those lines, so he asked if it was all right to stay in my room to make sure nothing happened. I said it was fine for him to sleep in my bed, I knew nothing was going to happen, but he insisted on sleeping on the floor, still in his suit.” He shook his head. “It was rather odd, actually. As soon as I mentioned him sleeping in my bed, he got all _weird_ and wouldn’t make eye contact with me.”

“Uh, probably because he’d love to jump into bed with you, _sans the suit_.”

He slapped Bilbo on the shoulder, mouth agape. “Don’t say such things! There’s no way that’s the reason.”

“It’s most definitely the reason, dear. Did he get all flustered when you got changed?”

The PA’s blush deepened. “Ah. Actually. I couldn’t really stand, so he might have helped me strip down to just my pants… My memory is quite blurry, but I do remember him muttering grumpily under his breath the entire time, I think I made him angry.”

“Like I said, he was grumpy because he couldn’t climb into bed with you when you were just in your _pants_.”

He shook his head. “No way, never. He treated me like I was a… a tired puppy who couldn’t keep his eyes open and make his way to his bed, I was so pathetic.” Ori leaned forward conspiratorially. “I know I was drunk, but I’m pretty sure he _petted my hair_ as I was falling asleep.”

Bilbo choked on his mouthful of tea, and had to slam his fist on his chest to regain his breath. “Ori, dear, he was being affectionate, not condescending. He slept on the fucking floor, while you were in your pants, and probably stroked your hair as he said goodnight. Dwalin is most definitely keen on you, I know it. He was just being a gentleman and not taking advantage of you while you were in that state.”

“He petted my hair, Bilbo. _My hair_. As I was passing out.” He let out a ragged breath. “He’s not interested, he was just doing his job.”

“Ori, his job description most definitely doesn’t cover _drunkard babysitter_. He’s into you, alright?”

“You’re delusional.”

“I could say the same about you.”

Ori groaned, closing his eyes. “I made him angry, alright? So now I’m going to try to make it up to him and cook whatever desert it is that you were making yesterday.”

“You’re going to bake for him?” He asked incredulously, grinning.

“Well… yes. Do you think I should?” Ori bit his lip worriedly. “It’s just that I overheard him yesterday saying he would kill to eat whatever you were cooking, so I figured I could save him the trouble and just make it for him myself?”

Bilbo beamed over at him. “I think that is an excellent idea, Ori. My mother always said _the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach_.” He chuckled to himself. “Thank heavens I’m such a good cook, then. I’ll have them lining out the door in no time.”

“I’m not cooking for him so he likes me, I’m just… making up for when I made a tit out of myself.”

“Sure, I believe you.” He responded, smirking.

Ori rolled his eyes, and took another sip of tea. “You should.” He sat up straight, eyes widening. “Oh, and I have something to tell you!”

“Yes…”

“Thorin mentioned you earlier today. Well… sort of. I think he was talking about you?”

“And…”

“He asked me a question about _tea_. He never asks me about tea, and was asking if I knew anything about the different types, and which ones were popular in this area.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “And this relates to me how?”

“I think he’s trying to learn a bit about tea so he can impress you.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “No way.”

“Yeah, I told him I saw lots of fancy looking Chinese teas on the wall at your Teahouse and that he should look into those.”

“I’m sure he just wants to broaden his tea horizons, this has nothing to do with me at all.”

Ori smiled up at him knowingly. “And you haven’t done any research into politics to impress him?”

Bilbo coughed guiltily, avoiding eye contact. “…No, nope. Nada. Not at all.”

“You’re an awful liar.”

He sighed. “Christ, I know. It would definitely come in handy if I could.”

“Did you want me to tell you more about him so you have some things to talk about?” Ori offered, as he put the last piece of cake into his mouth.

“Uh, maybe just one or two things? If that’s not too much trouble?”

Ori beamed at him. “Not at all, what did you want to know?”

Bilbo tapped his bottom lip with one finger, staring at the roof as he came up with a question. “Um, does he have any hobbies except brooding and drinking whiskey?”

He giggled. “Yes, yes he does. He quite enjoys poker, reading, bike riding and he plays an instrument.”

“That's right, I think I remember him mentioning he played an instrument but he never told me what it was. Do you know?”

The P.A. shook his head, eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it, if I told you he would kill me.”

Bilbo leaned forward eagerly. “Oh Christ, now you _have_ to tell me.”

“He would _literally_ kill me. And Dwalin would help him hide the corpse. Balin would do the paperwork. You’d never find my body.”

“It can’t be _that_ embarrassing.”

“I would be tortured before I was killed.” Ori smiled apologetically. “I’d tell you if I could, I swear. You’ll just have to weed it out of him yourself.”

“Fuck, now I really, _really_ need to know. Damn.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, since we can’t talk about that, what is his sister like? Balin mentioned her the other day."

Ori laughed softly. “You would love her. I think you might be twins, separated at birth. Well, the ‘ _tearing Thorin a new one’_ part of you both.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Really? Why on earth would he spend time with me if I remind him of his sister? That’s… weird. And a little too _Game of Thrones_ for my liking.”

“You don’t! Not like that. What I meant is, she had to raise Fili and Kili, right? Dis can literally handle _anything_ that gets thrown at her. That’s why she’s looking after Thorin’s affairs while we’re all here, she’s amazing.”

“She should meet Bell, they’ll get on famously too.”

“If she comes to visit, we should all have afternoon tea at the B&B together. It would be amazing.”

Bilbo hummed in agreement. “Definitely.”

“So, anything else you’d like to know?” Ori asked, fiddling with the handle of his teacup.

“Um, is there anything he really hates that I should know about?”

He looked up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes as he tried to come up with an answer. “He hates it when people don’t queue properly? But that’s quite common… Um. He hates Gin. And techno music. And cats just _hate_ him for some reason, as soon he is in the same room as him they run right away.”

Bilbo nodded, taking it all in. “Right, so, no dates with gin cocktails at a popular nightclub that allows cats. Got it.”

Ori’s eyes widened, and he grinned at him. “You’re going to ask him out!?”

“W-What!” He spluttered, shaking his head. “I never said I was going to ask him out!”

“You kind of did, Bilbo.” He accused, biting his lip to keep his grin from getting too big.

“ _Bullshit_.”

He shook his head, grin still in place. “That would be fantastic, you definitely should.”

“Wait. You want me to date your _boss_?” Bilbo asked, deadpan.

“Not as my _boss_ , just as Thorin. You two work well together, I can see it.”

Bilbo wrung his hands. “I don’t know, Ori. He’s a busy, important politician, _who might become our next PM_. And I’m just… Bilbo Baggins, Teahouse owner and permanent bachelor. There’s no point trying anything, it won’t go anywhere.”

Ori shook his head vigorously. “You can’t think like that, Bilbo. I know that I don’t know you that well, but so far you’ve been really lovely and welcoming, and you’re not afraid to tell Thorin like it is.” He cleared his throat, and took a sip of tea. “Thorin goes on all the time about the two-faced people he works with and has to deal with, he values your honesty. Trust me.”

“Being able to yell at him doesn’t mean we’re a good match, Ori.”

“But it means you’ll keep him grounded if he does become PM, and he won’t turn into the uptight politician his father was.”

“His father was in politics too?”

He nodded, humming affirmatively. “He was pretty scary, kept on going on about keeping the Durin line in politics, preserving the family name.”

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “That sounds like a pretty tough upbringing.”

“Thorin has been preened for politics since he was only little, and always told to _get on with it and get the job done,_ at least that’s what Balin told me… I think that’s why he’s never really dated anyone. He’s been so dedicated to becoming PM and reclaiming his home, that he hasn’t focused on himself.”

“Huh. How about that. I always imagined him as the _serious-partner-of-many-years_ type.”

“I’ve been working for him ten years now, and I’ve never heard of a boyfriend _ever_. Not even a near-boyfriend or an _arrangement_ with someone.”

Bilbo whistled sympathetically. “Well, that’s something we have in common then. Long-term singledom. Fantastic. Both of us have no bloody idea what we’re doing. _What can go wrong._ ”

“I’m _pretty sure_ he wants to date you, and you want the same thing, so that’s at least sorted.”

He groaned, and put his head in is hands. “But it isn’t sorted, though. I have no idea what I’m doing. I try to talk to the man and just end up yelling at him, he drives me insane.”

“Just think of how incredible the sex could be.” Ori said quietly, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Ori!” He exclaimed, swatting him on the shoulder. “He’s your boss!”

The P.A.'s cheeks flushed bright red, and he covered his mouth with one hand. “Yeah, but, I’m trying not to think about that part and just focus on giving you advice.”

Bilbo cleared his throat, thoroughly flustered. “Yes. Well. I don’t want to talk about _that_. You’ve been spending too much time with Bofur, he’s rubbed off on you.”

“…I’m right though, you both have some _powerful_ tension going on.”

_“Ori!”_

 

\---

 

Bilbo had ended up near-throwing the PA out of his kitchen, _after giving him the soufflé recipe of course_ , because he wouldn’t stop mentioning the chemistry him and Thorin shared; Ori remaining predominantly on the topic of how satisfying it would be if they did eventually sort out the tension and threw each other into bed.

His father was right, it really was the quiet ones you had to watch out for. Ori had some rather _creative_ ideas on techniques of how to dispel the tension, making Bilbo blush bright red and shush the man till he stopped talking about how fit and _flexible_ Thorin was from years of yoga.

He shook his head, trying to reclaim control of his thoughts. It was time for baking, not for rose-tinted daydreams.

Bilbo reached for his trusty recipe book and flipped through it, unsure what to make next. “Hmm… I’ve already made lemon tarts and a chocolate flan, maybe it’s time for something savoury…” He flipped another few pages and hummed approvingly, as an enticing photo of cheese and chive scones grabbed his attention.

“Perfect. Now, do I have enough cheese…” He opened the fridge and went through its contents, searching for a nice, strong Cheddar. “Shit, I’m fresh out.”

He tapped his chin, deliberating what to do. “I could just make plain scones… oh but I have so many at the Teahouse already, and sweet pastries too. Wait.” Bilbo grabbed the basket Bofur had returned earlier, and hung it on his elbow. “Those pastry sheets that Bombur borrowed I’m sure I can swap for some Cheddar. Brilliant.”

After ensuring he didn’t need anything else for the scones, Bilbo headed out the back kitchen door, leaped over the short wall separating the properties, and rung the bell to the cottage. Nothing stirred. He checked his watch, seeing it was only nine. Surely they weren’t all in bed?

Muffled footsteps approached, and the kitchen light was switched on. “One moment, coming.” A familiar, deep voice rumbled.

Bilbo prepared himself mentally to come face to face with Thorin, eliminating any romantic thoughts he may have been having earlier. He was just popping over to visit Bombur and borrow some cheese, not snog Thorin against the kitchen wall. Bilbo kicked himself mentally, he was getting side tracked, and needed to calm his mind.

The door swung open and Bilbo’s eyes widened as Thorin stepped into view. All chances of having a decent conversation had flown straight out the window, for Thorin was in jeans. _Jeans_. And not just any jeans, _tight black ones._ And he was wearing a grey, obviously well-loved hoodie. Bilbo looked down, and groaned internally. Christ, he was barefoot too. He had never see Thorin so normal and casual, and it was extremely disarming; his hair was all ruffled and beard unkempt, like he had just woken up from a nap on the couch. He had never looked so damn sexy and kissable, and it was driving him crazy.

Thorin cleared his throat pointedly, shaking Bilbo out of his internal ramblings. “Mister Bilbo, how can I help you on this fine Thursday evening?” He asked amusedly, as he leant against the doorframe.

“I-I was after Bombur? I need to borrow something from the pantry.”

“I’m afraid they’re all out, they decided to head out to the Green Dragon for a pint or two.”

Bilbo shuffled awkwardly. “Right, I see. I guess I’ll just go then-”

“-Would you like a cup of tea?” Thorin blurted out, cringing at how painfully eager he had sounded. He cleared his throat, and collected himself. “What I mean to say is, I’m sure I can help you find whatever you’re looking for. I was just about to put the kettle on anyways, and can make us some tea while we look?”

“Sure, why not.”

Thorin nodded and walked back inside, opening the door for his guest and closing it behind him. Bilbo looked around the kitchen curiously; it was done up in white with an abundance of floral patterns, and had ridiculous lacy curtains on the windows. It made Thorin stand out like a sore thumb; the tall, burly man standing awkwardly in the grandma-chic kitchen. Bilbo had to stifle a snigger behind his hand, the man looked utterly ridiculous.

“Loving the look you’ve got going on in here, very _old lady with ten cats_.”

The politician rolled his eyes. “Yes, laugh it up. It was the only fully furnished cottage available so last minute, so here we are. In nana paradise.”

Bilbo let out a short bark of laughter, then bit his cheek so he didn’t laugh too hard. “Is the rest of the place this… _frilly_?”

“You have absolutely no idea. The first night we stayed here, I think it gave me a headache.”

He let out a genuine bout of laughter, unable to keep it in anymore. “Fuck the tea, you have to give me a tour this instant.”

Thorin grinned at him and nodded. “Sure, follow me.” He led Bilbo out of the kitchen and down the hallway, which was decorated with multiple framed cat-crochet pieces, the animals all doing something sickeningly adorable like rolling around a ball of yarn or sleeping in a comically small basket.

“If this is just the hallway, I can’t _wait_ to see the sitting room.”

“Just wait, it’s pretty spectacular.”

They walked to the other end of the hallway and Thorin stopped and pointed to their right, Bilbo gasping as soon as he laid eyes on the room.

Thorin was right, the room was _incredible_.

It was like four grandmas had lived in one house together, and cramped as much as they could into the small space that would fit. There were so many knickknacks and doilies on every surface, Bilbo couldn’t actually tell what colour the coffee table was.

He turned to face Thorin, who was eyeing the room miserably. “Oh my God I am so sorry. This isn’t even funny, it’s _sad_.”

“There are twenty six doilies in my bedroom.”

_“Twenty six!”_

“And thirteen ceramic pigs. All comically posed. Some are wearing hats.” He added, completely deadpanned.

Bilbo covered his mouth with both hands, and looked back at the overly furnished room. “I don’t actually know where to look, there is just so much going on… is the rest of the cottage really this bad?”

“There are laughing ceramic dogs in the bathroom.” His eyes glazed over, as if remembering something horrid that had happened to him. “Their eyes watch you in the bath, it’s terrifying.”

That was it. Bilbo absolutely lost it.

He burst out in raucous laughter, holding his ribs as he bent forward. “Oh shit… Oh” He took in a ragged breath between laughs, straining for breath. “The fucking _dogs_ … oh… oh God. I can’t _breathe_.”

Thorin joined him, laughing softly and shaking his head. “It’s horrid, you shouldn’t laugh.”

“But… bloody pigs _in hats_! When you sleep!... Oh Fuck… Too funny…” He struggled between breaths, tears now forming in his eyes.

“Yes, yes. Laugh it up.”

Bilbo put his hands on his hips and tried to regulate his breathing, his breaths coming out roughly. “Sorry, sorry. Shouldn’t laugh.” He took in a deep breath and stood up straight. “Oh man, I haven’t laughed that hard in _ages_. Thanks, really.”

“I’m glad to hear my discomfort brings you so much joy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t be such a wet blanket. You don’t have to be so _grim_ all the time.”

“It’s still not funny.”

“Oh come on, it’s a little bit funny.” He grinned up at him cheekily, crossing his arms. “Pigs in _hats_ , Thorin. That’s comedy gold.”

“You’re not the one who has to sleep with them in the room.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow coyly. “Have you turned them all around, so they don’t face you?”

Thorin coughed awkwardly. “No, that would be ridiculous.”

“Piss off, you totally have!”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes. “Fine, yes. I have. Because they’re terrifying. And have dead eyes.”

“Well, if it’s so bad, maybe you should just sleep at mine.” He slammed his eyes shut and covered his face with one hand, very aware of how suggestive that had just sounded. “I mean. I have four guest bedrooms; you could stay in one of those. Of course. I’m not inviting you to share mine. Not that I find the idea of you sharing my room awful. Or that I want you to come over and sleep with me. _Wait_. What I mean to say is. Shit.” Bilbo sighed and opened his eyes, greeted by Thorin grinning down at him, as usual, thoroughly enjoying watching Bilbo fumble over his words. “Just fucking know that if it gets too loud here or whatever, there’s a bed at mine you can sleep in. End of story.”

Thorin cleared his throat, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. “You done?”

He breathed out loudly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes.”

“Right, well, I don’t know about you, but I could really go for some tea right now.”

“Tea would be brilliant, cheers.”

Thorin spun around and headed for the kitchen, Bilbo in tow, who was hitting himself on the head repeatedly, muttering ‘ _fucking idiot, stupid Bilbo’_ under his breath on repeat. Thorin politely pretended not to notice, and walked over to the kettle and turned it on.

“I do have some loose leaf, if you were interested?”

“I usually just drink teabags at home because I can’t be bothered, but some loose leaf would be nice. What do you have?”

He picked up a small black canister and squinted at the label, clearing his throat. “I have some... _poo-err_ tea?”

Bilbo stifled a laugh under a hand, and looked up at the man fondly. “It’s pronounced pu-erh, actually. And it’s quite earthy, are you sure you’ll like it?”

Thorin nodded, still squinting at the packaging. “It’s black tea, I’m sure I’ll be fine. The lady at the store said it was very popular.”

“It’s also very high in caffeine, will you be able to sleep tonight if you have any?”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “I can handle some tea before bed, Bilbo. I’ll be fine.”

“…Alright then.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Do you know how to brew it? With these kinds of teas, they taste pretty awful if you over brew them. You traditionally don’t serve them with milk or sugar, so you can’t cover the flavour up if you ruin it.”

Thorin threw the canister over to Bilbo, who caught it one-handed. “How about this, since you’re so insistent on _backseat brewing_ while I make the tea, it’ll just be easier if you just do the bloody thing yourself.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just very particular when it comes to tea.”

_“You don’t say.”_

Bilbo bit his lip, trying not to smile. Thorin was sulking, and it was absolutely adorable. “So, where do your teapots live?”

Thorin grumpily sat down at the small kitchen table, and started nibbling on a biscuit before him. “Above the fridge.”

“Right, thanks.” He quietly padded over to the fridge, opened the white cabinet and peered in. There was a teapot big enough for at least four cups of tea, but it was too far back to reach. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uhh… could I please get a little help? I’m not tall enough.”

He heard Thorin’s chair scrape along the floor, and felt a sudden warmth at his back as Thorin stood right behind him and leaned forward, picking up the teapot Bilbo was straining to reach. He placed the teapot in Bilbo’s small hands and sulked back to his chair, saying nothing.

Bilbo blushed, his hands shaking a little. Thorin’s sheer size had completely engulfed him as he leaned over him; making Bilbo imagine what it would be like if Thorin bent him over and-

“ _No_ , fucking hell, keep it together!” He mumbled to himself under his breath, forcing himself to think about something different, not involving counters and/or Bilbo being pummelled into the side of one.

“Did you say something?” Thorin asked coolly, his sulk now over.

He shook his head, making his curls bounce around his face. “N-Nothing, just remembered something I need to do when I get back home.” Bilbo replied unconvincingly, as he paced over to the kettle and placed the floral teapot down. He opened the tealeaves and sniffed the contents, smiling happily. “This is a very high grade tea, you chose well.”

Thorin’s chair scraped against the floor again, and Bilbo felt the familiar warmth behind him again, this time just on his left side as Thorin peered over his shoulder. “How can you tell?”

Bilbo’s hand wobbled slightly as he pinched some tealeaves and spread them out over his other palm, showing the tealeaves more obviously. “You see how the leaves aren’t broken or cut up, but they’re full and are a mix of brown and black? That’s how you tell. And here, smell.” He raised his small hand up to Thorin’s face, as the taller man leaned down and took in a whiff. “You smell how it’s earthy, with a faint smokiness? That’s what you want, it’ll have a nice rich flavour.”

The taller man crinkled his nose, and looked down at the tealeaves warily. “Are they supposed to smell smoky? This isn’t like any tea I’ve ever smelt before.”

He laughed quietly, and turned back to the teapot. “I said this tea was different, you sure you still want to try it?” He put a few pinches of tea inside the strainer and added the freshly boiled water to the top, the smell of the tea now filling the room.

“I said I would try it.”

“Sure thing, but don’t drink the whole cup because you feel you have to. I won’t get offended.”

“I’ll drink the damn tea.” He replied sternly, making Bilbo bite his lip again so he didn’t laugh.

“Of course, sorry I said anything.” He pulled out his iPhone and set a timer for three minutes, and placed it down beside the teapot.

“Do you really time your all teapots? It’s a bit far, isn’t it?”

“I do it for all my customers at work, they never remember to take the leaves out in time. I don’t want them drinking over brewed tea in my Teahouse, that’s just wrong.”

Thorin huffed amusedly, the release of air stirring a few of Bilbo’s curls, making him suddenly very aware of Thorin’s heat at his side. “You’re definitely in the right profession, that’s for sure.”

“It has its _moments_.”

They stood silent for a little while, then Bilbo’s timer went off and he removed the tealeaves from the pot, placing them in the sink. He put the lid on and walked over to the small kitchen table, placing it down in the middle. “Well? Make yourself useful and gets us two cups, will you?”

“Right, on it.” He fetched two hideously pink teacups from the shelf and walked over, then sat across from Bilbo.

“Now remember, this tea is different from what you’re used too. If you don’t like it, it’s fine.”

“Stop mothering me and pour the bloody tea.” He replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

He smiled cheekily and poured them both a cup, and sat the pot between them. “It’s good for you and apparently cures hangovers, so I keep a small tin right next to the kettle for when I need it.” Bilbo took a sip and sighed contentedly, the earthy taste rolling over his tongue.

Thorin sniffed the cup curiously, and took a tentative sip. His eyes widened in horror, but he was steadfast, and swallowed down. “It’s… different.”

“Yes, it’s definitely not your usual English Breakfast now, is it?”

“No, not at all…” He blew on his hot tea and took another sip, crinkling his nose afterwards.

He watched Thorin curiously, thoroughly entertained by the display. It was painfully obvious that he hated the tea, but was trying as hard as he could to hide it. Bilbo took another sip, humming contentedly. “This really is a fine brew, thank you again for sharing it with me.”

“Anytime.” He replied curtly, taking another pained sip.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Bilbo trying his hardest not to stare at Thorin while he wrestled with the tea, but failed miserably. Luckily, the taller man was glaring down at the offending teacup the entire time, so missed his audience’s stares.

Bilbo finished his cup and filled it again. “Would you like a top-up, Thorin?”

“Sure.”

He pursed his lips so as not to laugh as he filled the teacup before him, only filling it three quarters of the way. “It’s a lot cooler now, so you can drink it faster.”

“How _excellent_.” Thorin answered tersely, as he scrunched his nose and took another sip. He lowered the teacup and actually coughed, and that was it for Bilbo, this wasn’t funny anymore.  
  
“Thorin, _please_ just stop. I can tell you hate it; you don’t have to drink the stupid tea. I won’t think less of you, it’s just… well… _tea_.”

“Are you sure?”

He smiled at him warmly, and put his hand briefly over the larger man’s. “It’s fucking tea. I think I’ll be fine.” Bilbo winked at him and returned his hand to his lap; not noticing how the corner of Thorin’s mouth twitched downwards as he removed it.

Bilbo sculled the rest of his teacup and sighed happily, patting his small stomach. “So, how come you ended up staying home while everyone else went out and had fun?”

Thorin scratched his beard, tilting his head as he did so. “Too much paperwork, sadly. Such is the _glamorous_ life of a politician.” He drawled casually, rolling his eyes.

“ _Wait_. You have work you need to be doing? Why the hell have you been sitting here with me and drinking tea that you hate? I’m keeping you away from your work, I’m so sorry.”

Bilbo moved as if he was about to get up and Thorin stilled him, placing a hand on his shoulder gently. “If I had lots of work to get done I would have told you so, stop being ridiculous. I needed a break anyway, the report I was going over was _exceptionally_ dull.”

“Are you sure?”

He chuckled warmly whist he removed his hand from Bilbo’s shoulder and crossed his arms. “Very sure, stop fussing.”

“Right. Yes.” He tapped the handle of his teacup absentmindedly and stared around the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

“So, tell me, why did you actually come over tonight?”

“Oh. I completely forgot about that.” He gestured behind himself, towards the small basket. “I was needing some cheese from Bombur, I’m making Cheese and Chive scones and ran out.”

Thorin tapped his chin. “I think he has a few wheels of it in the second pantry.”

“You have a _second pantry_. Filled with _wheels of cheese_.” He asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

“Bombur is very… passionate about cooking.”

“With a _cheese pantry_ , I should fucking think so!”

He stood up slowly, pushing the chair back. “I’ll show you, come on.”

“Brilliant, thanks.” He followed Thorin out of the kitchen, and to a small door that was built into the space under the staircase. “Uh Thorin, I thought you said pantry... This is some _Harry Potter_ cupboard under the stairs bullshit. I’m not going in there.”

“It goes further than just the width of the staircase, it’s not cramped.” He opened the door and took a step inside, switching on the light. “See?”

Bilbo squinted warily at the taller man and walked over, looking inside. It was tall enough at the highest point for Thorin to stand up straight; and was a small, dry room with lilac painted walls and a bare wooden floor. Tall, wooden shelves lined the two far walls, filled with bottles of while and various shaped wheels of cheeses, and a few shelves of spare bedding and towels lined the short wall to the right.

“It’s definitely not cramped or anything.” He walked fully inside, and stood by Thorin who was reading the labels of a shelf of cheeses.

“I told you so… All right, so this one is an aged Gouda, and this one… Cheddar. Here, grab this one.” He threw the wheel of cheese at Bilbo, who fumbled it and fell backwards, running into the door and making it slam shut. Bilbo slid down the door till he was sitting down; legs sprawled in front of him, while Thorin rushed over to see if he was hurt. “Shit, sorry! I thought you were closer than you actually were.”

He shook his head and looked up at Thorin. “I’m fine you tit, calm down.” Bilbo stood up from where he was sitting on the floor, and dusted himself down. “Come on, let’s get out of this fucking room.” He turned around and tugged at the door, but nothing happened. It stayed shut.

Thorin reached over his shoulder and joined in, pulling at the antique copper handle. Still nothing.

Bilbo turned around slowly and stared up at Thorin dangerously.

 

“You are _so_ fucking dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Laughs manically-  
> Oh god I am so sorry, I will have the next chapter up soon, I swear.
> 
> Also, Thorin is a big moody baby and nobody can convince me otherwise.
> 
> So, this chapter kind of wrote itself in only two days,  
> Which is why it came so quickly.  
> What a lovely change for you all.
> 
> Heads up:  
> This fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies if I mess up anything...
> 
> Comments most welcome!
> 
> I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can. Which will be soon. Because I have written a cliffhanger and am an awful person.


	7. Balin Fundinson: Campaign Manager and Matchmaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin call The Company for help,  
> Balin has other ideas,  
> And trousers are removed.

Thorin took a step backwards, raising his hands in surrender. “I had no idea that would happen, I swear.”

“That’s all well and good, Thorin, but it still doesn’t change the fact that _we’re locked in a fucking pantry!”_ Bilbo exclaimed, glaring daggers up at him. “What were you thinking, throwing something to me? I’m the most uncoordinated person on the planet!”

He shrugged noncommittally. “How was I supposed to know that?”

“I don’t know, maybe _ask_. Or, think twice before you start throwing a wheel of cheese around like it’s some sort of _dairy bouquet_.”

“Dairy bouquet?” Thorin asked amusedly, making Bilbo’s face redden in anger.

“Yes, Thorin. _Shut up_.” He balled his hands into fists by his sides. “We’re wasting time. How the hell do we get ourselves out of here?”

“Let me try the door again, I’m sure I can force it open.”

Bilbo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And ruin this heritage listed cottage? I think not.” He patted his pockets. “I’ve left my phone in the kitchen. Brilliant. Did you bring yours?”

Thorin reached into the front pocket of his hoodie, drew out his phone and looked down at it. “I have three percent battery left.”

He groaned. “Of course you do, because nothing could go bloody right for once now, could it!” Bilbo held his hand out expectantly. “Give it here, best make those three percent count.”

“Despite what you may think, Bilbo, I can make a call on my own.”

“We have maybe five minutes worth of a call left on your phone, and we need to call Balin. He’ll spend the first four minutes giving you a status update on whatever you’ve got going on, and we need to be fast. I’ll deal with him.” He shook his outstretched hand pointedly. “You know I’m right, hand it over.”

Thorin rolled his eyes. “Fine. Make sure he comes soon.”

He huffed. “ _Trust me_ , I don’t want to be stuck in here any more than you do. I have baking that needs doing.”

“It could have been a lot worse, we could’ve been locked in the sitting room.”

Bilbo shuddered. “Please don’t make me imagine what that would be like, I’ll have a coronary.”

The taller man unlocked his phone, brought up Balin’s number and handed the phone across. “Make sure he realizes how urgent it is.”

“I have family members who could talk the hind leg off a horse about just the weather, or gardening techniques on how to grow the biggest potatoes. I know how to steer a conversation onto topic, _trust me_.” He steeled himself, and pressed the green call button.

“Thorin! Calling to sulk about all that paperwork you’re doing, then?” Balin chuckled, the sounds of glasses chinking and the other members of the company chatting merrily in the background.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Actually, it’s me, Bilbo. We’re in a spot of bother and need your help.”

“ _Bilbo?-”_ He covered the mouth piece briefly, painfully obvious about the fact he was whispering to everyone around the table. “-sorry about that, Bofur just had to tell me something. So laddie, how can I help you?”

“Don’t laugh… But Thorin and I are locked in the pantry under the stairs.” Balin covered the mouthpiece again, and the sounds of muffled laugher leaked through the phone, making Bilbo glare up at Thorin and cover his microphone as well. “They’re fucking laughing, Thorin. I thought you said they were professionals.”

“They’re off duty, they can do what they like.”

He sighed exasperatedly, and uncovered the phone. “Yes, it’s bloody hilarious, but we really need some help.”

Balin chuckled. “We’re in the middle of dinner now, but we’ll be there within the hour.”

“ _Are you serious_. We’re locked in a cabinet and you’re all going to finish off your pie and mash and down another pint before you come rescue us?”

“Well, they’ve just arrived, see. It would be a _shame_ to put this good food to waste.”

Bilbo pursed his lips, trying to restrain himself from swearing down the phone at the lovely old man. “Fine, just… rush, _please_.”

“Aye, laddie. We’ll be there in a jiffy, just make yourselves comfortable. I’m pretty sure there’s a few bottles of a fine ’95 Merlot in there that you two could drink while you wait.”

“Great idea, just one thing. There are no loos in here.”

“There’s a window?”

“ _Goodbye_ , Balin.”

 

\---

 

Balin slid his phone back into his pocket and smiled cheekily at everyone at the table. “Well, it seems young Mister Bilbo and our Thorin are locked in a small room together, Bilbo seems rather frustrated with the situation.” The company burst into raucous laughter once more, slapping each other on the back and whooping.

“He’s only frustrated because there isn’t a bed in there, am I right lads!” Bofur exclaimed boisterously, taking a long swig from his beer as a few of the company cheered in agreement.

“Hold your tongue, lad.” Dwalin grunted, eyeing him dangerously. He turned to his brother. “One of us should rush up now, get them out and make sure they’re safe.”

He smiled innocently up at him. “Actually, brother, I was thinking of leaving them in there a while so they can sort out whatever it is that’s going on between them. It’ll do them some good.”

“What if there’s an emergency, and they’re stuck in there.” He replied, scowl deepening.

Balin shook his head, tutting fondly. “You worry too much, you know that? It’s _Hobbiton_. They’ll be fine.”

“I can’t ignore my responsibilities to him as Head of Security."

“Well then, pay attention to your responsibilities as his closest friend.” He raised an eyebrow up at him. “You know they need to talk, and this is the perfect situation. They’re on neutral ground, they’re both sober, and none of them can run away. I couldn’t have planned it better.”

Dwalin scowled down at him. “I still don’t like it.”

A polite cough sounded, making them both turn around and look up at Ori, who was now standing behind them, avoiding eye contact and fidgeting with the corner of his chunky navy knitted cardigan. “I’m sorry for interrupting, and I know it’s none of my business, but I think we should leave them there for a little while.”

Balin smirked up at Dwalin; his brother now gazing fondly up at Ori who was still avoiding looking them in the eye. “He speaks the truth, brother. We should listen to him.”

Ori smiled bashfully down at Dwalin, who started turning a lovely shade of beetroot red. “It’s… just… I’ve talked to Bilbo, and he seems really keen on Thorin and I think they just need to talk it out a bit.”

“Words of wisdom, laddie.” He elbowed his brother in the ribs, making him scowl down at him. “I’ve always found that honesty is the best policy, especially when dealing with important matters of the heart.”

Dwalin coughed uncomfortably, making his brother smirk knowingly at him, and Ori look at them both with no idea what was going on. He gathered himself, and looked up at Ori. “Fine, we leave them. But only for an hour, after that I’m going to rescue them myself.”

The younger man beamed down at him, and nodded excitedly. “Of course, no longer than an hour. Thank you, really. I think they need this.”

“It’s fine…” He muttered under his breath, as he finished the last mouthful of his ale.

“Oh, please let me get you another. It’s the least I can do.” Ori offered, biting his lip.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m quite capable of getting my own drinks.” Dwalin replied, staring down into his empty glass.

“But… I want to.”

He looked up at the younger man, who looked like he was prepared to sprint away at any second. The poor man was terrified. “Alright, then. That would be most kind of you.”

Ori positively beamed down at him, making his stomach do a flip. “I’ll go get you one now, did you want the same?”

“Aye, the ale is fine.”

The PA nodded shyly and sped off, headed for the bar. Dwalin groaned, rubbing one hand over his face tiredly.

“Well, you most certainly know how to make the lad feel comfortable around you, don’t you now brother?” Balin tutted.

“ _Piss off_.”

Balin slid his phone under the table, and opened a new text to Bofur.

**BF: We’re getting my brother enough Ale tonight so we stay here till closing, agreed?**

Bofur checked his phone, grinned, and winked across the table at him.

“Why Balin, you read my mind.”

 

\---

 

Bilbo pulled another heavy goose feather duvet down from the top of the shelves, grunting under the sudden weight as it fell into his arms. He kneeled down and placed it on the ground on top of another duvet, rolling up half of it against the wall so it could be used as a backrest. Three floral pillows and a lilac mink blanket joined his duvets in the cosy corner, which he was now walking around on barefoot. There was no need to unnecessarily dirty them, plus, he enjoyed how the silkiness of the mink blanket felt between his toes.

He fluffed up one of the pillows and sat against the wall, putting the pillow at the small of his back. Bilbo hummed to himself as he put his arms behind his head and stared up at the decorative tin-pressed roof; there were no books or ways to entertain himself in there, so staring up at the ceiling and trying to decipher different shapes made by the shadows was his only source of amusement. Thorin wasn’t being any help, choosing to instead stand by the small circular window at the other end of the room and glare out into the night sky.

The sitting position became uncomfortable after a while, so he slumped down and put another pillow under his head, now fully lying down. He let out a satisfied sigh, and heard Thorin chuckle as he turned around and looked down at him.

“What?” Bilbo asked, as he propped himself up by his elbows and looked up at him incredulously.

“I heard you fussing about with blankets behind me, but I had no idea you were planning to move in.”

Bilbo looked around his arrangement of blankets, then up at him. “Well… since we might be here a while, I figured I might as well get comfortable.”

Thorin put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow. “Please, make yourself as comfortable as you like. Just know I’m not taking the blame when the housekeeper finds out you’ve dirtied all her favourite vintage duvet covers.”

“Shit, really? I’ll make her a cake or something tomorrow to apologise.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I’m just joking, calm down.” Thorin took a step forward, eyeing the blankets curiously. “So, may I join you in your little nest?”

Bilbo blushed, and nodded. “Sure, I believe there’s room for two. You’re lucky I’m so small, otherwise your ridiculously broad shoulders wouldn’t fit.”

“I’ll try not to crush you.” He replied sarcastically as he turned back to the wall and picked up a bottle of wine, and walked over. Thorin stood at the edge of the blankets and waited patiently, as Bilbo sat up and shuffled to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Stop hovering and come sit down, you tit.” Bilbo grumbled as he sat right in the corner, and pulled the mink blanket over his legs.

“With that lovely invitation, how could I resist?” Thorin kneeled by the side of the blankets, placed the bottle of wine down and crawled forward over the duvets on his knees, ending up sitting crossed-legged across from Bilbo.

“You look ridiculous.” Bilbo chuckled, looking at the politician amusedly.

“What? It’s comfortable.” He leant back to pick up the bottle of wine, and unscrewed the cap. “I know it isn’t classy to drink from the bottle, but we seem to have no glasses available.” Thorin took a swig, then licked the side of his mouth as a drop started to trickle down his chin.

Bilbo gulped dryly, staring at his mouth. “Don’t care, give it here.”

Thorin laughed softly, and handed the bottle over. “I thought I heard you giving Balin grief over the fact that there aren’t bathrooms in here.”

He shrugged, and swallowed a mouthful of the rich red liquid. “It’s only one bottle, and we’ll be out in under an hour. It’ll be fine.”

The politician hummed in agreement, as he rolled forward on his knees and took the wine out of Bilbo’s hand, and took another sip. He put the cap back on the wine and leant it against the wall between them.

“I must say Thorin, you look pretty comfortable drinking wine straight out of the bottle for someone I’ve never seen out of a suit til today.”

Thorin huffed amusedly, running his fingers through his hair. “Despite what you may think, I was young once.”

“You lived in a bloody _castle_ , I highly doubt you drank cheap alcohol out of a brown paper bag in the woods, late at night like the rest of us.”

“You’d be surprised. Dwalin was a pretty bad influence back then, sometimes I wonder if the reason why he’s so strict about his job now is because he’s making up for lost time.”

Bilbo grinned. “What’s the worst trouble you both have gotten into?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Go on, I’ll tell you something embarrassing in return if you do.”

Thorin unscrewed the cap of the wine, and downed a mouthful with a loud _gulp_. “Dwalin and I were around… fourteen I think? Yeah, fourteen. We had gone out with some of the lads from school to go drink in the park behind the library, and got quite drunk. Dwalin helped me sneak back into the house, but Dis found us in the hallway sneaking about in the dark and gave us such a scare, and a lecture afterwards, that we never did it again.” He shuddered. “She was ten at the time, but absolutely terrifying.”

Bilbo snorted in laughter, and covered his face in embarrassment at the loud noise. “Wait. So the worst trouble you’ve ever been in was from your ten year old sister?”

“If you ever meet her, you’ll understand.” He responded seriously, tone void of all humour.

“The more I hear about your sister, the more I feel I need to.”

Thorin laughed softly, and passed the wine over to Bilbo. “She is to be feared and respected, my sister. I mean, she raised Fili and Kili. They’re _exhausting_.”

“I haven’t talked to them much, but they seem really nice, those two.”

“When they’re not causing trouble or in the papers, they are.”

Bilbo sipped at the wine twice, deliberating whether he should ask the question he wanted to or not. He put the wine down between them, and cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to their father? Nobody seems to have mentioned him, that’s all...”

“Dis had the boys quite young, their father didn’t stick around.”

“Oh, I’m really sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, the man was an arsehole and didn’t treat her well, I’m glad he left. Dis was more than capable to raise them on her own, and I chipped in when I could. We all did.”

“They look up to you, I can tell.”

Thorin rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “I’m not so sure about that, it would be nice if they did what I asked now and then.”

“They’re young, they’ll grow out of it.” Bilbo brought his knees up against his chest and pulled his arms around them. “Plus, they’ve got a lot of spotlight on them from the Media, I can imagine that being a lot of pressure.”

“I’m hoping it’ll be a learning experience for them, shape them into better men.” He sipped at the wine. “The perks of coming from an old family and being in politics, nothing is a secret and everything is in the public spotlight. I’m surprised they haven’t caught wind of my time here yet.”

Bilbo held out his hand, and Thorin passed the wine over. “I’m sure it’s Nori to thank for that... Are you _sure_ he’s not a spy?”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “He’s not a spy, don’t be ridiculous. He likes to think of himself as a communications expert.”

“That title sounds like it came straight out of an espionage film.”

“No it… fine, _now_ it sounds like it came from one. But he isn’t a spy, he’s far too lazy for that.” Thorin grinned at him. “But enough of that, I believe you owe me an embarrassing story.”

Bilbo groaned. “I suppose I do…” He tapped his chin, staring at the ceiling. “Well, there is the time that I accidentally picked up an Irish accent and made a cute Irish guy nearly hit me.”

“What do you mean you _accidentally_ picked up an accent?”

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, sometimes I sort of… absorb the accent of who I’m talking to? It happens completely subconsciously, and I hate it because I worry that people think I’m mocking them.” He cleared his throat. “Anyways, so this gorgeous Irish guy knocks at my door, I think he was selling Solar panels or something, we got chatting and thirty seconds in I sounded like I was from the same town he was from. So he starts flirting with me, it’s going well, then he asks me where I’m from, and I say here. And he just looks at me and goes ‘ _Yes, but where from before here?’_ and all I could say was _‘…Always been here_.’ And he just shoots me this _look_ that makes me feel like an absolute git and he storms off. Oh God it was so embarrassing I had to go inside and eat half a cake.” He covered his face, groaning into his hands.

“How come you haven’t absorbed my accent, then? Should I be jealous?”

Bilbo peered from between his fingers. “It’s not really an accent, Thorin. Your vocal cords are made of _gravel_.”

“Thanks, really.” He replied, thoroughly unimpressed.

“No… I like it.” He blushed, reached for the wine and took another mouthful, avoiding eye contact. Bilbo put the bottle down and looked at Thorin, who was watching him intently. “What?”

Thorin looked down at his lips. “It’s just that you’ve got a drop of wine running down your chin.”

He wiped the left side of his face with the back of his hand. “Better?” Thorin shook his head, so Bilbo wiped the other side.

“Look, just let me…” He reached forward and ran the edge of his thumb across Bilbo’s bottom lip, from the corner of his mouth to the middle, his other four fingers cupping his chin gently. Thorin’s thumb pulled his lip down slightly, and they both stared into each other’s eyes intensely, breathing deeply. “I… think I got it.”

Bilbo maintained eye contact as he carefully pushed the bottle of wine aside and slowly moved forward, now resting on his knees with his hands on Thorin’s strong, muscular thighs. He gazed searchingly at Thorin, looking for a glimmer of resistance as their breathing turned uneven, faces only a few inches apart.

All he could find in Thorin’s darkened eyes was desire, so he surged forward and pressed his soft lips to the rough politician’s, and felt the man freeze. He stayed there for another second and pulled back, furrowing his brow and looking him in the eye. “But I thought you-” Thorin pulled him closer by the chin and joined their lips once again while he let out a low moan, making Bilbo shiver and lean forward, putting all his weight on his hands on Thorin’s thighs.

They exchanged a few slow kisses, Thorin’s hands both cupping Bilbo’s face, until Thorin tilted their heads and deepened the kiss, his tongue darting out and licking Bilbo’s lower lip. The shorter man whimpered at the act and climbed forward, still kissing Thorin as he straddled his massive thighs and wrapped his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders, one hand ending up at the base of his neck. Bilbo reached up and ran his fingers through Thorin’s dark hair, tugging at it slightly, and made the man groan raggedly and pull him even closer, one arm snaking around the shorter man’s waist.

Bilbo smiled against Thorin’s lips and deepened the kiss even further, his tongue entering his mouth completely and not just lingering at the politician’s lips. He responded by grabbing Bilbo’s arse and pulled him as close as he could, hissing loudly when he felt the front of their trousers line up, the heat of their trapped erections radiating between them.

“ _Fuck_.” Bilbo gasped as he rolled his hips experimentally against Thorin’s, the movement making them both break the kiss and breathe raggedly, gazing at each other heatedly. He removed his fingers from Thorin’s hair, wound his arm around the taller man’s neck and ground himself down against Thorin, arching his neck as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

He watched Bilbo with heavy lidded eyes, as the younger man used Thorin’s broad shoulders to lift himself up with, then roll his hips down and rub his crotch against Thorin’s hard, trapped heat. “Oh… _God_.” He moaned as Bilbo rolled his hips even harder against his, and leant forward to bite Thorin’s lower lip.

That was it, Thorin couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to _touch_ Bilbo, explore every inch of him, not just sit there and let the shorter man do all the work.

Thorin started kissing Bilbo’s neck fervently as the younger man mewled softly, his hips still gyrating against Thorin’s. He continued his exploration of Bilbo’s soft skin as he curled his arm closer around his waist and held the other arm out to support their weight as he changed their position, so they were lying on the blankets, Thorin looming over the younger man who was now on his back.

Bilbo broke the kiss and rested his head on the pillows, smiling softly up at him. He reached one hand up and cupped Thorin’s beardy cheek, enjoying how the bristles felt against his hand as he stroked his thumb along the politician’s strong jawline. “Hi.”

He chuckled, leaning into Bilbo’s hand. “Hi.” Thorin leant down to kiss Bilbo again, but didn’t see the open wine bottle that was near Bilbo’s head and knocked it over, spilling its contents everywhere. “Oh, _shit_!”

Thorin stood up hurriedly and went to the linen closet, grabbing a few dark towels as he returned hastily to the spot, and handed two to Bilbo. They held the towels against the wine spill, which was now the size of a dinner plate, Bilbo cursing under his breath. Thorin looked up at Bilbo, smiling apologetically. “Sorry, I kind of got carried away there and forgot about the wine.”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left it open like that.” He lifted up the corner of the towel he was pressing against the spill to have a look, and winced. “That housekeeper of yours is going to murder you, though. This duvet its pretty much ruined.”

“ _Not as ruined as the moment, though.”_ Thorin muttered inaudibly under his breath, as he pressed the towels harder into the duvet.

They mopped up the wine mess in silence, both returning to their normal, un-flustered state. Once happy with the state of the spill, Bilbo sat back on the blankets, and checked his watch.

“What time is it?” Thorin asked, as he picked up the wine-stained towels and threw them in a pile at the other side of the room.

“Around eleven thirty, I don’t think they’ll be coming back anytime soon.”

Thorin looked behind him at the makeshift bed, and back at Bilbo. “Well, there’s room for two here. We may as well call it a night.”

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Are you sure? I’m quite happy to grab a blanket and sleep at the other end of the room.”

The taller man rolled his eyes and grabbed Bilbo’s hand, pulling him towards himself and the blankets. “You’re the one that made damn bed, if anyone’s getting it, it’s you.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “Right then, but we’ll share the bed… if you turn off the light.”

“Done.” Thorin stood up and turned off the light, and returned to his space at the edge of the blankets. He lifted up the top duvet and mink blanket and slid in, scooting a little closer to Bilbo, who was lying on his side facing him, his back leaning against the lilac wall. “Well, goodnight. I suppose.”

“Night.” Bilbo rolled over so he was on his back, and looked up at the ceiling. He shuffled uncomfortably, his belt digging into his side. Bilbo rolled over on his side so he faced Thorin, but it was worse. Resigning himself to a night of no sleep, he sighed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Uh… Thorin?”

He opened his eyes, to see Bilbo looking back at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m not being untoward, but is it really uncomfortable sleeping in your trousers?”

“ _So_ uncomfortable.”

Bilbo bit his lip, and looked away. “Would it be weird at all if we slept in just our pants and shirts? I just know I’m going to get no sleep in these damn chinos.”

“Not at all, I won’t get any sleep either if I don’t.” He sat up in bed and unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of his jeans while Bilbo did the same with his own.

Bilbo gulped dryly and stopped undressing himself as Thorin’s belt was thrown haphazardly to his left, and he continued watching Thorin as he started working on his fly, lying back down as he lifted his hips and pulled his trousers down under the blankets. Thorin pulled them off and sat back up, throwing them aside to join his belt. The older man shuffled back up the bed, the blankets pooling at his waist to reveal some rather nice black Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

Suddenly very aware that he was staring, Bilbo looked down at himself and removed his chinos under the blankets, threw them at the end of the bed, and took of his cardigan as well. He yawned and stretched, his navy t-shirt revealing his small belly and the waistband of his nondescript grey boxer briefs.

Thorin looked over at him, smiling softly. “Is this what you usually sleep in?”

Bilbo blushed, suddenly very aware of his state of undress in front of Thorin, and pulled up the blankets to cover him up to his navel. “In summer, yes. In winter I usually prefer tracksuit bottoms and a hoodie, or flannel pyjamas.”

“Same here.” He put his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, goodnight. Again.”

“Goodnight.” Bilbo replied, as he lay back down on his side, facing away from Thorin. He pulled the blankets up to his neck and rolled into a ball, missing the warmth of his cardigan. The blankets were enough to let him sleep, but not warm enough for it to be a deep, cosy one. He scrunched his eyes shut, trying his best to fall sleep, to no avail.

After fifteen minutes of trying to sleep, he gave up and rolled on his back, staring up at the roof, and sighed loudly. He heard Thorin chuckle and turned his head, greeted by Thorin’s smile.

“You all right? You keep sighing and turning over, what’s wrong?”

“I’m too cold, these duvets are doing nothing. Aren’t you cold at all?”

Thorin shook his head. “My temperature runs hotter than most people, I don’t think I’ve ever truly _been_ cold.”

Bilbo grumbled, pulling the blankets tighter under his chin. “Lucky you.”

He cleared his throat pointedly. “If you want, I can come closer? Just so you can sleep, of course.”

The shorter man squinted at him distrustfully, then rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sure, but no funny business. I plan to sleep tonight, I have to bake early tomorrow to make up for all the lost time stuck in this _lovely_ cupboard.”

“Of course, no funny business intended.” He pulled his pillow with him and moved in closer, his chest now against Bilbo’s side. “Better?”

Bilbo looked up at him with wide eyes. “How the hell are you so warm? You’re like a fucking transportable heater.”

“I’m used to living in the mountainsmwhere it’s much colder. English weather is nothing compared to what it was like at home in Erebor.”

He nodded, shuffling a little closer. “Well, goodnight then. For real.”

“Goodnight, Bilbo.”

 

\---

 

Bofur turned around and shushed the rest of the group, who were whispering excitedly about what they were going to find when they opened the pantry door. He gestured for them all to go upstairs and to bed, shooting them a dangerous look when they opened their mouths to protest. “I’ll tell you what happens in the morning, lads. Now off to bed.” He turned to Balin, who was supporting a rather drunk Dwalin. “Especially you two, I think you should sleep in his room tonight just to make sure he’s alright.”

“I agree, laddie. You take Nori and check on Thorin, I’ll sort everyone out.”

“Cheers Balin, you’re a diamond.” Bofur nodded at Nori to follow and they walked down the hallway silently, making their way to the pantry door.

Nori jiggled the doorknob, satisfied that it was indeed jammed. “It’s these old doorknobs, the lock often gets stuck.” He pulled a lock pick kit out of his pocket and started working at the lock, sticking his tongue out as he concentrated on the lock.

The door made a loud _click!_ and swung open, revealing a dark, silent room. Nori and Bofur stuck their heads around the door, Bofur stifling a bark of laughter as he saw the picture before him. Thorin was spooning Bilbo, the couple in just their pants and shirts, as their clothes were thrown about the place. He sniffed, and grinned at Nori. “The place stinks of wine, look like someone’s going to be hungover tomorrow.”

“We should leave the door slightly open for them, if they need to use the bathroom in the morning.”

“Definitely, especially if they need to have a cheeky vomit.”

Bofur and Nori closed the door quietly behind themselves, leaving it slightly ajar.

 

“I don’t know about you Nori, but I’m going upstairs and telling _everyone_.”

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things finally happened!  
> Well... kind of.  
> More like Bilbo finally pulled his finger out and kissed that tall idiot.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the sort-of-smut?  
> It's my second time writing anything like that, so I hope it isn't too awkward.
> 
> As per usual, his fic is still unbeta'd, and I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics.  
> Apologies if I mess up anything...
> 
> Comments most welcome!
> 
> I'll get up the next chapter as soon as I can.  
> It's a long weekend here in NSW, so I'll hopefully have a new chapter up in two to three days.


	8. Babysitting Hobbits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin wake up in the pantry,  
> Dwalin gets mad as hell,  
> And Bilbo does some babysitting.

Bilbo scrunched his nose as he woke up, and opened one eye experimentally in the early morning light. It was just after sunrise, the yellow light filtering down through the small circular window, leaving a golden halo on the ground near the end of the bed. He relaxed, knowing he had more time to sleep, so closed his eye and shuffled backwards into the heat behind him, and felt an arm tighten around his middle.

His eyes shot open.

“ _Oh shit_.” He mouthed silently, as he looked down and saw a large muscly arm around his soft belly; for his shirt had ridden up in his sleep, leaving it exposed. Bilbo bit his bottom lip worriedly, unsure what to do next. He tried slowly edging forward, but the movement only stirred Thorin and made him pull the shorter man back towards his chest even closer. 

After five minutes of trying to escape, he stopped fighting it and became resigned to his fate. Apparently, sleepy Thorin was a massive cuddler. Bilbo lay his head back down on the pillow and let out a long sigh, he wasn't going anywhere fast, Thorin was far too strong.

He felt the hair at the back of his head stir, and heard Thorin chuckle behind him. 

“Finally given up on your escape, burglar?” He asked, voice rugged and thick with sleep.

Bilbo froze. “W-What? You’re awake?” He spluttered. “And what do you mean  _burglar_?”

Thorin yawned and pulled him even closer, making Bilbo release a small yelp. “You stole all the blankets last night, so I had to come and retrieve them.”

“Yes, well, it’s morning. You can have them.”

He groaned and drew his knees closer to his chest, curling them into a near-ball. “T-Too early. Mmmmore time to sleep…” Thorin dozed off, his heavy breathing ruffling Bilbo’s hair.

“Thorin?” He whispered, trying to pull the heavy arm from around his middle.  _“Thorin?”_ Bilbo whispered more urgently, trying to wriggle free.

“Hmmm?”

“I'm being squished, let me go!”

“Nnnnno” He replied groggily, burying his face in Bilbo’s mop of auburn curls.

“ _For fuck’s sake_.” He cleared his throat. “Thorin, wake up please? You’re crushing me.”

“W-What?”

“Please wake up, it feels like you're a boa constrictor and I can’t get out.”

He felt Thorin freeze behind him. “Bilbo, I am so sorry.” Thorin pulled his arm back and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “I hog the bed when I’m asleep, I must have rolled closer.”

Bilbo turned to face him, and sat up as well. “It’s quite alright, no harm done. Although half-awake you called me  _burglar_ , which was quite amusing.”

Thorin’s eyes widened. “ _Christ_.”

He watched the politician amusedly, the taller man looking rather rumpled and, well,  _ravished_. Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand, stifling a laugh. “Nothing to worry about, you’re fine. But you may want to make yourself a tad more presentable when you leave the room, otherwise we won’t hear the end of it from everyone else.”

“I always look like this when I wake up, they’re used to it.” He looked down at Bilbo’s lips and smirked. “Though you might want to avoid them this morning yourself, your mouth and chin are looking… delicate.”

Bilbo groaned, and touched the red skin around his mouth gingerly. “Beard rash. Fantastic." 

“ _Sorry_.” Thorin offered as genuinely as he could, then looked down at Bilbo’s neck and cleared his throat. “You might want to find a scarf, too.”

“ _You’re joking_.” Bilbo pulled the collar of his t-shirt aside and prodded his neck carefully, wincing when he located the bright purple love bite on his collarbone. “Christ, it’s like I’m fifteen again."

Thorin picked up his hoodie from the side of the makeshift bed and offered it over. “Here, cover it up with this.”

“Yes, because wearing your clothes won’t look suspicious  _at all_.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to hide it or not? That cardigan of yours won’t do anything.”

Bilbo sighed defeatedly, took the offered hoodie and slid it on top of his t-shirt. He held up his arms, the hoodie’s sleeves at least ten inches longer than his fingertips. “I’m drowning in it, I look absolutely ridiculous.”

“I think you look rather cute, actually.” Thorin mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh. Right.” He coughed awkwardly. “Well, we better get dressed then…” 

He leant forward to pick up his trousers but was stopped abruptly by Thorin, who reached for his shoulder gently and turned the shorter man to face him. “I have a better idea of something to do.”

Bilbo gulped dryly, looking down at Thorin’s lips. “I’m listening.”

Thorin smiled softly, his hand moving up the shorter man’s side to cup his cheek. “I would quite like to finish doing what I intended to do to you last night.”

“And… what might that be?” Bilbo’s tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip.

“I’d much rather show you than tell you.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against the younger man’s, and moaned when Bilbo’s tongue lapped at his bottom lip and started exploring his mouth. Thorin rolled them over and repositioned his body so he had a knee at either side of Bilbo and gently pushed him downwards, supporting his weight on his elbows as he towered over Bilbo and continued kissing him eagerly. Bilbo smiled against the politician’s lips, reached up and ran his nails down Thorin's back, making the older man release a low groan.

Thorin lifted an arm up from beside Bilbo’s left shoulder and reached down between them, stroking the side of Bilbo’s left thigh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the younger man. He then moved his hand to Bilbo’s inner thigh and spread his legs slowly, moved his own knees in between them one at a time and gently sunk down, now lying flat on top of him. Bilbo let out a muffled moan against Thorin’s lips as the taller man rutted his hips; aligning their hardening cocks to slide against each other; the only barrier between them the thin cloth of their pants. 

“Do you want more, Bilbo?” Thorin asked roughly, his voice deep with arousal.

Bilbo opened his eyes and nodded, biting his lip. “Christ, yes."

He let out a low chuckle, and joined their lips once more in a ferocious kiss while his left hand slid under Bilbo’s clothes and pinched his left nipple, causing the younger man to moan loudly, his hips bucking up. Thorin rolled the hardening bud between his thumb and index finger and kissed his way across Bilbo’s face down to his neck, lapping his tongue over the purple mark he had made the night previous.

“You look so good in my clothes.” Thorin nibbled at Bilbo’s collarbone and kissed the enflamed area right after, as the younger man’s breath continued to gain in volume. “But this hoodie is getting in the way.”  

“Then fucking get rid of it.” Bilbo worded breathlessly, eyes clenched shut.

Thorin hummed in agreement, pushed himself up by his right arm and sat up, pulling Bilbo along with him. He grabbed the bottom of the hoodie, yanked it upwards and threw it aside by the bed, not looking where it fell. 

“Shirt too.” Thorin commanded raggedly; and watched eagerly as Bilbo reached backwards and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside to join the hoodie on the ground. The politician eyed Bilbo’s soft, naked chest greedily; eyes scanning downwards to the small tuft of curly auburn hair at the top of his grey pants.  

“Well, are you going to do anything or just have a look?” Bilbo asked impatiently, his lips red and swollen from all the kissing. 

He smirked at his flushed companion, raising an eyebrow mischevously. “In a rush now, are we?”

Bilbo let out a small whine at the back of his throat which Thorin silenced instantly as he leapt forward and sealed their lips together in a heated kiss, one hand tangled in Bilbo’s mop of curls, the other sliding down his right side to rest under his knee and lift it up till it was fully bent. The younger man’s left knee followed suit and Thorin leant forward, pushing them both into the bed as Bilbo’s thighs clenched around the politician’s hips and his short legs wrapped around the back of him.

Thorin ground their hips together once more, then started making his way down Bilbo’s jaw and his neck, leaving a trail of kisses, moving downwards until he reached his hardened right nipple. He ran his tongue in one long stroke across the pink bud, making Bilbo arch his back upwards and let out a rough moan.

“I take it you liked that, then?” He asked softly, as he flicked his tongue against the hard nub.

“Oh God yes, don’t you dare stop.” Bilbo keened, breathing roughly.

He chuckled against Bilbo’s pale skin and dragged his left hand along the shorter man’s body until it found Bilbo’s untouched nipple and flicked it, causing Bilbo to hiss and buck his hips upward. Thorin moved over to take the reddened bud into his mouth, sucking lightly as his tongue flicked at it in staccato strokes.

“ _Fucking hell_  you are good at this.” The younger man moaned, his hips now rotating in a circular motion against Thorin’s chest. 

Thorin raised his head and released Bilbo’s nipple with an obscene  _pop_ , smirking up at him. “Just wait until I do what I’ve got planned for you next.”  

Bilbo licked his lips, his eyes now dark and dilated from arousal. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Oh really?” He enquired, voice rough with heady arousal, and lapped at the erect nub with his tongue. 

“Stop teasing, Christ!” Bilbo near-howled, scrunching his eyes shut.

He trailed one hand down, pinning Bilbo down by his hipbone. “Only if you look at me while I do it.” 

The younger man’s eyes sprang open as he peered down, met by Thorin’s wide grin as he trailed soft kisses down Bilbo’s ribcage, nuzzled at his soft stomach with his nose, and paused; hovering over the elastic band of his pants. Thorin maintained eye contact while he licked his lips obscenely and tilted his head downwards, making a trail with his tongue from the base of Bilbo’s trapped erection to the tip.

Bilbo slammed his head backwards into the pillow, scrunching his eyes closed. “Oh my  _God_.” 

Thorin laughed softly and lowered his face, rubbing his nose against the outline of Bilbo’s now rock hard cock. “May I?”

“If you don’t, I’ll fucking kill you.” Bilbo moaned in response, hands desperately clutching at the duvet.

He supported his weight on his right arm and hovered above Bilbo, slipping two fingers into the top of the white elastic. “When I’m done with you, Bilbo Baggins, you won’t be able to-” 

Bofur burst into the room, covering his eyes. “Alright lads, I can’t see nothing. Breakfast is ready, your morning tumble can wait.”

Thorin groaned loudly, resting his forehead on Bilbo’s hipbone. “Oh  _for fuck’s sake!”_

 

\---

 

Bofur sipped at his orange juice, watching Bilbo and Thorin over the top of his glass. The two men were staring down at their plates, avoiding looking up at the rest of the company, who were all sharing amused looks and raising their eyebrows at each other. 

He cleared his throat. “So, lads. Sleep well in the pantry, did you?”

Bilbo blushed, clearing his throat. “Y-Yes, but you all could have come sooner.”

“Aye lad, but we had a few important matters to sort out before we could come rescue you.”

“Yeah, finishing your dinner. How bloody important.” Bilbo mumbled grumpily as he reached forward to pick up the jam, but was stopped half way as Thorin reached forward and handed it over to him instead. He looked up at the politician and offered a small smile, his blush deepening. “Ah, thanks.”

“No problem.” Thorin muttered as he looked back down at his plate and popped a segment of cold grilled tomato in his mouth.

The entire table watched them with poorly hidden interest, eyes moving between the awkward couple. Bilbo was sitting far too stiffly and straight, blushing red as a tomato; and Thorin was hunched over his plate, moodily pushing the uneaten remains around with his fork. The entire display was disastrously obvious, something had gone down between the two whilst locked in the small room, and they were all gagging to find out what it was.

Balin cleared his throat pointedly. “You alright there, laddie? Seem to be sitting a little stiff, is all.”

Thorin shot him a dangerous look. “He’s  _fine_.”

“Excuse me, Thorin, but I can answer for myself.” He raised an eyebrow at the politician, thoroughly unimpressed. “Thank you for asking, Balin. My back is just a little sore, sleeping on the floor last night did it no good I’m afraid.”

He nodded politely, and sipped his tea. “It’s a shame we’re not in London, I could have recommended a great masseuse I know; he does a  _great_  full-body deep tissue massage. Really gets into all your _nooks and crannies_.” Balin added, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Bilbo coughed awkwardly, noticing at the corner of his eye how Thorin’s hands were balling into fists under the table. “Uh, thank you for the thought, I’ll ask for his details when I’m next in London.”

“Of course, laddie. You’re very welcome.” 

The table fell back into near-silence, the only noise in the room being Fili and Kili whispering animatedly to each other behind their hands at the far end of the table. Their uncle turned his head and shot them an icy look, silencing them instantly. 

Dwalin entered the room loudly, dragging his feet behind himself as he walked over and sat heavily in the spare chair next to his brother. He groaned raggedly, leaning forward at the table, and put his head in his hands.

Balin chuckled. “Why, good morning brother. After some bread and water to settle that poor stomach of yours?”

He fired a wrathful look up at Balin, who only smiled sweetly back down at him. “Don’t think I don’t know  _exactly_  what you did last night.”

The older brother looked at him innocently. “Why, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Dwalin sat up and looked around the table, levelling them all with a withering look. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves, it’s not our place to meddle with the private affairs of others.”

Bilbo cleared his throat pointedly, making Dwalin turn his head and look down at him. “Uh, I’m awfully sorry, but what are you all talking about?”

“My  _friends_ -” Dwalin shot them all another poisonous look. “-and I all owe you both an apology. We should have come and rescued you as soon as you called, not leave you in there all night.”

“Oh, I see.” He responded quietly, staring back down at his plate.

“Please know that it will never happen again, and it was extremely unprofessional of all of us to treat you that way.”

“It’s fine, really. No harm done.” Bilbo replied even softer, his voice barely heard across the table.

Dwalin stood up abruptly, making the table’s contents shake and everyone gape up at him. He scowled around the table again, crossing his bared tattooed arms. “You lot have acted like gossiping teenagers all morning, don’t think I haven’t seen it. Give them some space and respect.”

“Dwalin, thank you, but that’s quite enough.” Thorin instructed calmly, his voice level with a threatening edge to it.

“Surely you’re not going to let this slide?”

“I am, and I will. Leave it alone.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“But Thorin, you and Bilbo could have-”

“-I said enough!” Thorin barked, as he rose up and slammed his fists on the table. “We are all going to stop talking about this, and continue on with our day as usual. Do you understand?” He glared around the table, removing the smirks from many of their faces.  _“Well?”_

They all mumbled agreement, looking down guiltily. 

Thorin sat back down, and turned to murmur in Bilbo’s ear softly. “I’m sorry about them. They seem to have lost all tact and manners this morning.”

Bilbo shook his head. “It’s fine, we all have our days.”

The politician put one large hand gently over Bilbo’s smaller ones, which were now fidgeting nervously in his lap. “Please don’t feel uncomfortable around them, I don’t want you to start avoiding this place just because they can’t watch what they say.” 

He turned his head and looked up at him, smiling softly. “It would take a lot more than some busybody campaign team to keep me away, not to worry.” Bilbo’s phone vibrated in his pocket, so he pulled it out and checked who was calling. “Oh I should take this, it’s Bell. Excuse me.”

Bilbo stood up and hurried out the kitchen door, stopping when he was halfway along the garden and out of earshot.

“Hi Bell, sorry about that. Had to escape some nosey Londoners.”

She tittered over the phone, the familiar sound making him smile. “Oh pet, I know all too well now prying that lot can be. That Balin one especially, he may seem all old and lovely, but he’s as sharp as a tack.”

He groaned, leaning back on the stone fence as he rubbed his face tiredly. “I  _know_.”

“Sounds like you have a story for me! Come on, you know I love a good gossip.”

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “So last night, well,  _and_  this morning, things may have… developed between Thorin and I.”

Bell wolf whistled over the phone, making Bilbo grin and shake his head fondly. “You cheeky minx, tell me  _everything_.”

“Well, there was some pretty stellar kissing, a dash of grinding, and Thorin started to go down on me.”

“You’re  _joking_!” She giggled excitedly. “Wait. What do you mean  _started to_?”

“Well, we may have been interrupted-”

“-No!”

“By… one of his campaign team.”

She gasped, and let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my God,  _who_?”

 “…Bofur.”

Bell cackled over the phone, the sound of her slapping her knee in the background. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh, but that is hilarious. You realise he’ll never, ever let you forget it?”

“It gets worse, I’m currently in the middle of breakfast with them all now and its so fucking awkward, I keep catching them grinning at me at the corner of my eye, and as soon as I turn to catch at them out they look away.”

“Oh flower, that’s awful!” She giggled again. “Well, absolutely hilarious for me, but awful for you all the same.”

“I appreciate the support, cheers.” He replied dryly, rolling his eyes.

“What’s Thorin done about it all?" 

“He may have gotten all melodramatic and yelled at everyone to shut up? Then suddenly went all… lovely and started whispering in my ear? I don’t know. Its awkward as all hell between us, I think we’ve made eye contact three times since we got caught in bed this morning.” 

She snorted amusedly. “You sound like you’re a teen again, getting caught behind the bike shed kissing boys.”

“Oh my God don’t start, I have bloody beard rash and a  _love bite_.”

“You are so classy, good Lord!” Bell giggled again, the noise being so adorable that he couldn’t stay mad at her. “Just wait till I tell my Hamfast, he’ll be in stitches.”

Bilbo groaned. “It’s so embarrassing, do you have to tell him  _everything_?”

“He’s my husband, flower. Of course I do.” She took a shark intake of breath. “That reminds me! Silly me, forgetting why I actually called in the first place. It’s our wedding anniversary tomorrow and we want to do something special, any chance at all you could babysit Sam for the night? I know it’s late notice, but we just realised today that we don’t have anyone staying here the weekend, so can go away and do something nice.”

He grinned. “Of course, did you want me to come over or is Sam all right with staying at mine?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, he’s been to your place quite a few times, I think that should be fine. He’ll probably enjoy it, actually. Running around and exploring all your rooms.”

“I’ll make sure I hide all my sex toys and buckets of lube.”

“I’d laugh, but I know you probably do have some hiding around the place, flower.” 

He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to answer that.” 

“You just did, Pet.” She giggled. “Anyway, we’ll drop him over at six tomorrow and pick him up Sunday morning, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, it'll be a piece of cake.”

“Sure.” She chuckled. “His favourite film is Ratatouille, and I’ll make sure he has his bear Susan with him, that should keep him happy.”

“I’ve babysat him before, I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t hesitate to call us if anything happens, I’ll have my phone on at all times.”

“Like I said, it’ll be easy.”

“Sure.” She replied, completely unconvinced. 

He stood up from the fence, groaning as he did so. “It will. Now, I need to get going and finish the baking I started last night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow love, have a good day at the teahouse.”

“Bye!”

He rung off, and slid the phone back in his pocket.

“No worries, it’ll be like a walk in the park.”

 

\---

 

Hindsight is a bitch.

Bilbo sunk down on the couch, a weeping Sam in his arms, completely exhausted and at the end of his rope. “Man, I am not cut out for this.” He murmured to himself as he leant back and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples as Sam cried into his shoulder. 

Sam had been inconsolable all night, refusing to go to bed or to stop crying. It was now midnight, and Bilbo had completely run out of ideas; the poor boy missed his parents, was beyond tired, and nothing would calm him down.

“Who in blazes knows how to deal with difficult children?”

He groaned, realising exactly who he should be calling, and slipped his phone out of his pocket. Bilbo pressed Thorin’s name in his phone and sighed resolutely, holding it up to his ear.

“Bilbo? Is everything alright?” Thorin asked over the phone, voice thick with worry. 

“Yes. Well. Sort of.” 

"B

"Uh, is that a child crying in the background?”

Bilbo looked down at Sam, who was now curled in a ball at his side crying softly, his face nuzzled under Bilbo’s right arm. “Perhaps?”

“Is that a yes or a no then?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m babysitting Sam, and it’s his first whole night away from his parents… It’s not going so well.” Thorin chuckled, Bilbo finding the warm sound surprisingly comforting. “Look, I know it’s past midnight, but could I maybe have some advice? I’ve tried everything: telly, bribery, singing to him, the lot.”

“Perhaps it’s your singing that’s got him in such a state.”

“Not the time to be joking about, Thorin. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll come over, be there in a minute.”

“Are you sure? I know it’s so late.” He looked down at himself, noticing the drool and snot all over his navy cardigan, and a large stain on his beige trousers from the spaghetti at dinner. “And I look a real train wreck.”

“It’s no trouble, Bilbo. And don’t worry, I’m not in my best clothes either.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Don’t thank me just yet, I might not be of any help at all.” Shuffling noises sounded in the background of the call, sounding a lot like blankets being lifted up.

Bilbo groaned. “Oh God, please don’t tell me I woke you up and you’re in bed.”

“I was just reading, you didn’t wake me.”

“ _Really, Thorin?”_

He laughed softly, the sound making Bilbo’s stomach do a flip. “Yes, really. See you in a few minutes.”

“See you.” Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “And thanks again.”

“Anytime.” 

Bilbo rung off, and put his phone beside him on the couch. He reached down and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair, trying to soothe the boy as much as he could. “Do you remember Mister Thorin?” He asked softly, trying to coax him out from under his arm.

Sam peered out from his hiding place, eyes red from all his crying, and nodded twice. “He stayed with us at home.”

“Yes he did. He’s coming to visit us now, isn’t that nice of him.”

He climbed up on Bilbo’s lap, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Do y-you think he’ll tell me a story, like he did the other day?” Sam asked hopefully, gazing up at him with his big brown eyes.

“If you ask nicely, I think he might.” He wrapped an arm around Sam’s back, pulling him close. “Do you remember what story he told you?”

The boy sniffed wetly, tears still trickling down his cheeks. “There was a d-dragon, and he was really, really mean.”

“I used to love stories about dragons my age, once I even snuck out of the house to go look for one.”  
  
Sam giggled. “That’s silly.”

“Perhaps, but it seemed brilliant at the time. I ran all the way down the hill, mum behind me, and I tripped over my own feet so she had to carry me home.”

He stood up in Bilbo’s lap, hands on his shoulders. “Where’s your mum now?”

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Well, er, she’s no longer with us.”

“Has she gone on holiday?”

“No love, she’s passed on… she’s in heaven.”

His lip started wobbling, tears starting to pool in his eyes. “I-is that where my mum is now? Is that why she’s not here?”

Bilbo’s eyes widened. “No, Sam! She’s just in Bree having a special sleepover with your Da.”

“Da’s dead too?” He burst into tears, collapsing melodramatically in Bilbo’s lap.

 _Well done you, you’ve made him think his parents are dead. Really, well fucking done_ he thought to himself, as he pulled Sam close and ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s their wedding anniversary, they’re just having a nice dinner and staying at a hotel.”

“Bu-But why wouldn’t they take me?”

He winced. “Because they want to do… _parent things_ together.”

“No, they need to come and pick me up! Where are they? I miss them!” Sam wailed, tears streaming down his face.

“Oh Sam, you poor thing, you’re absolutely exhausted.” He cooed as he stood up, and held Sam to his chest with one arm and supported the boy on his hip.

“Maaaa!” Sam wailed, theatrics back in full swing.

“Come on, let’s do a lap of the dining room till Thorin gets here, eh? He’ll know what to do.” Bilbo bounced him on his hip, trying his best to calm the poor boy down, who was now red faced and drowning the babysitter’s shoulder in a lovely mixture of tears and snot.

He walked them into the long room and started humming the first song that came to him in Sam’s ear, Sweet Emotion by the Kooks.

“…and I feel sweet emotion, every time you’re near me, every time you are near.” He started singing softly, swaying along to the beat.

A knock at the kitchen door sounded in the background, signalling Thorin’s arrival. “Come in, it’s open. We’re in the Dining room.” He continued his lap around the table, humming louder and now patting Sam’s back in rhythm, which seemed to be calming him down somewhat.

Bilbo heard footsteps close in behind him, turned around, and froze when he caught sight of his visitor. Thorin was barefoot and dressed in a ratty old black Kasabian tee, paired with baggy grey track pants that perfectly accentuated every curve and line of his muscular legs. Bilbo’s gaze drifted lazily down the tall man’s frame and quickly shot back up, looking Thorin straight in the eye. Much to Bilbo’s pleasure and instantaneous horror, Thorin’s grey trousers highlighted the rather generous bulge of what was being contained in his pants.

He coughed awkwardly, as a smirk grew on Thorin’s lips. Oh yes, Thorin had known exactly what he had been looking at.

Thorin strolled over, and stood behind Bilbo so he could talk to Sam, whose face was now nuzzled into Bilbo’s shoulder. “And what are you doing up so late, hmm?”

Sam halted his crying and looked up, chin wobbling. “I c-can’t sleep, I want my Ma.”

“Are you sure you’re not tired, Sam? Because you look like you’re ready to go to bed.”

He shook his head, grumpily scrunching up his face. “I’m not tired.”

Thorin yawned and stretched, which triggered Bilbo and Sam to both yawn in unison. “Oh really now, Samwise Gamgee? You sound pretty tired to me.” He chuckled, and ruffled Sam’s ginger curls.

The boy grumbled under his breath amusingly like an old man, making Bilbo stifle a laugh behind his free hand. “How about we go read in your room, hey Sam? You don’t have to fall asleep; we’ll all just get comfy. Sound good?” Bilbo offered, bouncing him on his hip to keep the boy from slipping down.

He bit his lip, and then looked up at Thorin, who was smiling warmly down at him. “Only if Mister Thorin carries me.” Sam leant forward, small chubby hands reaching up to the tall politician.

“Well come on then, you little ginger monkey.” Thorin grinned, pulled Sam out of Bilbo’s grasp and set him on his broad shoulders, hands holding onto his little legs to make sure he didn’t slide off.

Sam made a delighted squealing noise, overjoyed at being so high up, and laced his fingers together under Thorin’s chin, holding on tight. Bilbo turned around and looked up at the display fondly, Thorin missing the soft look being directed his way as he started slowly bounding forward, over-exaggerating each step and making Sam bounce up and down on his massive shoulders, the small boy giggling loudly after every stride.

“Careful, you two! Some of the ceilings are awfully low.” Bilbo called out, shuffling after them.

“You worry too much. Isn’t that right Sam?”

“Yeah! We’re just trying to have some fun!” He replied as he bounced up and down on Thorin’s shoulders excitedly. “See look, I can reach!”

Thorin laughed as they made their way up the stairs, the sound of Sam’s tiny hands slapping the roof heard in the background. “Careful, now. You don’t want to hit your head.”

He halted his squirming, and put his hands back under Thorin’s chin. “Yes, Mister Thorin.”

“Of course, listen to what _he_ says, not me.” Bilbo grumbled under his breath, bringing up the rear.

The politician reached the top of the stairs, waiting for Bilbo to catch up. “So, which room is Sam’s tonight?”

Bilbo sidestepped them and opened the door to the right of his bedroom. “Just in here, I’ve put him next door so I can hear him if he needs anything in the night.”

Thorin hummed in agreement as he entered the guest bedroom and sat on the edge of the large king bed, which was covered in various frilly pillows in shades of lavender and mint green. He gently lifted Sam up and off his shoulders, and placed him in his lap.

Sam pulled Thorin’s arms around himself, and grinned up at him. “Story time!”

He laughed softly, and looked over at Bilbo, who had seated himself on the olive green velvet armchair in the corner of the large bedroom. “Did you have any preferences?”

Bilbo yawned and tucked his feet under himself, leaning heavily on the soft armrest. “I’m not fussed, you two sort it out amongst yourselves.”

“How about you go and choose one Sam? I think I saw a pile of books near the door that looked good.”

“I’ll find something we all like, Mister Thorin.” Sam nodded excitedly and jumped out of Thorin’s arms and sat down cross-legged at the door, going through the large pile of children’s books Bilbo had piled there earlier.

Thorin stood up, stretched, and walked over to Bilbo, who was looking like he was having a hard time staying awake. He perched on one of the armrests and leant back, putting his arm behind Bilbo’s head. “How you going? You look exhausted.” Thorin asked softly, as he leant down to talk quietly in his ear.

Bilbo groaned raggedly, and leant back. “I am most definitely not cut out for dealing with crying children at all.”

The politician reached forward and started massaging Bilbo’s shoulders, making him close his eyes and sigh happily. “It’s your first try, don’t worry, you get better at it with time. I was useless when Fili was born, had no idea what I was doing at all. You just have to distract them when they’re sad or angry, keep them entertained and make them happy; it’s quite simple.”

He harrumphed. “I highly doubt it’s that simple… you’re so good with kids, I would have never picked it.”

“It comes from years of practice, trust me. I’ve been where you are right now a hundred times.”

Bilbo rubbed his face tiredly. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t have come over, Thorin. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s fine, really. The book I was reading was far less entertaining than watching you attempt to calm Sam with your singing.”

He reached back and swatted at Thorin’s hands, making him chuckle. “I have the voice of a bloody _angel_ , thank you very much.”

“I never said you didn’t, just… _The Kooks_? Really?”

“Shut up. I like them.”

Sam hooted triumphantly, causing them both to jump and look over at him. He grinned and plodded over, ‘The Rainbow Fish’ in his mitted hands. “I like this one, the pictures are pretty.”

Thorin removed his hands from Bilbo’s shoulders and walked over, patting the bed beside him. “Come on Sam, let’s get you tucked in and I’ll read it for you.”

He giggled excitedly and ran forward, jumping up on Thorin’s lap. “You have to get in too! It’s such a huuuuge bed!” Sam insisted excitedly, spreading his arms wide to express his point.

Bilbo smirked. “Come on Thorin, don’t be a spoilsport, get in.”

The politician smirked, and looked down at Sam. “You think we should invite Mister Bilbo too? He looks awfully alone over there?”

Sam bounced up and down where he was sitting. “Yes, yes! Let’s all get in bed, it’s like a sleepover!”

“Fine, fine. Let me just get in my pyjamas too, you start without me.” Bilbo leaned forward and stood up, groaning loudly.

“Yes Mister Bilbo!” Sam stood up on the bed and giggled excitedly as he ran over and slid under the covers, feet kicking up at the duvet eagerly. “Come on Mister Thorin, you can sit next to me, hurry up!”

“Coming.” Thorin rolled his eyes, and shot a smile in Bilbo’s direction. “Hurry back, you don’t want to miss any of the story.”

He nodded, chuckling to myself. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Bilbo watched him fondly as Thorin stood up and crawled into bed next to Sam, who shuffled over, handed him the book enthusiastically, and climbed up on his lap.

Thorin opened the book to the first page, holding it out so Sam could read along and see the pictures. “A long way out in the deep blue sea, there lived a fish…”

Bilbo smiled to himself as he walked out of the room and into his, looking around for his cleanest pyjamas. He found his navy striped pyjama bottoms and a faded grey t-shirt, slipped them on, and headed back into the guest bedroom.

Sam looked up from the book and grinned over at him. “Come and sit next to me! The scary Octopus just swam away and I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

He padded over and slipped into the giant bed, enjoying the comfort of Thorin’s radiating heat. Bilbo leant forward and puffed up a few pillows behind him, then sank back against them, sighing happily.

The politician looked down at him and smiled warmly, cleared his throat, and continued the story. “Suddenly, he felt the light touch of a fin. The little blue fish was back!”

Bilbo closed his eyes and let Thorin’s deep voice wash over him, laughing softy now and then when Sam interrupted the story and asked questions, all of which Thorin answered patiently and in full. The bed was awfully cosy, and the warmth from Thorin was lulling him into a deep sleep.

“Just going to nod off for a bit, wake me when you’re done.” Bilbo mumbled mostly to himself as he rolled over, his back pressed flush against Thorin’s thigh. He felt a rough hand stroke his cheek, and then slipped into a peaceful sleep.

 

\---

 

“…and happy as a splash, he swam off to join his friends.”

Thorin closed the book and looked down to see a snoring Sam curled up against his chest, and Bilbo passed out to his right. He ruffled Sam’s hair affectionately and slowly slipped out of bed, cringing as he did so, trying with all his might not to wake the boy up. Luckily, all the years of looking after his nephews had paid off; Sam just mumbled and rolled over, his sleep remaining undisturbed.

“All right. One down, one to go.”

He walked over to the other side of the bed and looked down at Bilbo, who was curled into a ball on his side, pillow clutched to his chest. Bilbo looked utterly comfortable and at home, Thorin was at a loss.

“Now, should I move you? Damn.” Thorin mumbled to himself as he perched on the side of the bed, looking down at him affectionately.

Sam rolled over in his sleep, towards Bilbo, and ended up with his foot squished against the babysitter’s face. Thorin stifled a laugh behind his hand; Sam looked absolutely ridiculous and was now lying sideways in the giant bed, arms outstretched like Superman.

Thorin chuckled quietly to himself. “I definitely need to move you, you'll get no sleep tonight with Sam wriggling about.”

He leaned forward, one knee perched on the bed, and slowly pulled Bilbo towards him. Once Bilbo was close enough, Thorin scooped him up into his arms and stood up; one arm under his knees and the other wrapped around his chest. Bilbo stirred in his sleep, put his arms around Thorin’s neck and nuzzled into it, making him freeze, blushing bright red.

“…mmmmm. ’s warm here.” He sleepily mumbled as he rubbed his nose against Thorin’s throat.

Thorin’s eyes widened. “Okay, I _really_ need to get you to bed before you do anything too adorable, or I won’t be able to leave.”

Holding the exhausted babysitter close to his chest, he quietly exited the room and entered Bilbo’s bedroom, closing the door behind himself. He looked around the cosy room fondly, smiling as his eyes scanned the room. The space was so very ‘Bilbo’, down to the numerous piles of books and stack of cardigans tossed on his ancient couch.

“Well, you certainly weren’t lying when you said you loved books.” He murmured to himself as he carefully navigated around the room, doing his best not to trip and wake the sleeping Hobbit.

He sat on the side of Bilbo’s unmade bed and leant down, unfurling the slumbering babysitter from his arms. Not having any of it, Bilbo made an irritated noise at the back of his throat and kept his arms tightly wrapped around Thorin.

“Nnnnnnnno.” Bilbo slurred in Thorin’s ear, shaking his head in the nook of the politician’s neck.

“Come on, I have to go.” Thorin sighed, prying the sleepy babysitter’s arms from around his neck.

“Stayyyyyyy.” He whined, face scrunching up in distaste.

“I can’t, I have to get back to the cottage.”

“Bullshit.” Bilbo muttered as Thorin slipped out of his grasp, and he fell back onto his pillows.

Thorin reached into Bilbo’s pyjama pocket and fished out his phone, plugged in the charger on his bedside table and placed it beside the bed. “I’d love to stay, but I really have to go.”

“Twat.” He replied grumpily, muffled into his pillow.

He laughed softly, and squeezed Bilbo’s hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Arse.”

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Thorin reading The Rainbow Fish is kinda influenced by Richard's appearance on Cbeebies.  
> It's pretty magical, YouTube search that shit. 2006 Richard. Hell yeah.
> 
> More sort-of-smut things happened!  
> How exciting.  
> They will eventually get each other off, I swear.  
> It has been planned *rubs hands excitedly*
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	9. Then Along Came the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a visitor at the Teahouse,  
> Thorin gets over protective,  
> And Fili and Kili get up to no good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible content/trigger warning:
> 
> Drug use and Drug drink spiking  
> (But nobody gets hella hurt)

Whistling as he walked down the hill towards the Teahouse, hands in his pockets, Bilbo made his way to work. The morning’s spring chill had broken; the sunshine warming his back and shoulders through the thin fabric of his eggshell blue cotton shirt, which was rolled up to his elbows.

Monday mornings, no matter the week, were always pretty miserable for Bilbo. Returning to work after his only day off, Sunday, was never easy; but on this particular Monday he was in high spirits.

Yesterday he had woken up to a rather sweet text from Thorin, wishing him a good morning and asking how Sam was feeling. He smiled to himself, remembering how soft and patient Thorin had been with Sam. It had taken him completely off guard, and was affecting him far more than he would have expected. All Sunday he found himself with a ridiculous grin on his face, and was checking his phone every ten minutes or so to see if Thorin had replied, their conversation remaining light and flirtatious the entire day.

Bilbo rounded the corner and sighed happily, taking in the stunning view that was his teahouse in the warm midday sunshine. He unlocked the front door and headed straight for the coffee machine, warming it up in preparation for a long day’s work.

A trill sounded, making Bilbo grin and retrieve his phone from his pocket. His stomach did an excited flip. It was from Thorin.

**TD: Open yet? I think I’ll need a quadruple shot espresso today… Balin just put five two-inch thick reports on my desk to go over. Going to be a long one.**

**BB: The machine is warming up now, it’ll be ready when you get here.**  
 **BB: Also, I just opened my bakery delivery, I have fresh apple tart if you’re interested?**

**TD: Leaving now, definitely up for some tart.**  
 **TD: Oh, and some cake would be nice also.**

Bilbo rolled his eyes, his grin widening.

**BB: Christ, please work on your pickup lines on the way over. My eyes just rolled so far back into my head I saw stars.**

**TD: It worked though, didn’t it?**

**BB: I aged five years, that’s how hard I just sighed.**

**TD: Liar.**  
 **TD: See you in 5.**

He chuckled softly, slid his phone back in his pocket, and went back to the task of opening the Teahouse for the day. Old Sandyman’s baked goods were now conveniently delivered to his doorstep each morning, so all he had to do was set them out in the glass display cabinets, warm the barista machine and switch on the boiling water taps.

Bilbo walked from behind the counter and started wiping down the tables, back turned to the door. He heard the all-too-familiar sound of the door opening and bell ringing, but continued his cleaning; pretending he hadn’t noticed anyone come in, smirking as he heard his visitor clear his throat pointedly behind him.

“Come on Thorin, at least say hello before you demand your caffeine, you prat.”

“If your coffee is good enough to make the well-mannered Thorin Durin forget himself, then it must be good coffee indeed.” An unknown voice replied, rich and deep, almost echoing around the small teahouse.

Bilbo spun around, eyes wide, greeted by the ice cold, almost reptilian smile of his latest visitor. He stood over a head taller than him, his hazel eyes (almost golden, Bilbo noticed) observing him keenly. The stranger was dressed in a well-tailored dark grey suit with a silk burgundy shirt, arms behind his back as he stood stiffly at the door. He appeared to be a well-dressed, attractive man, but something about him was just… off. Perhaps it was the forced smile, which menacingly revealed all his teeth, chilling Bilbo to the bone.

After a few moments, Bilbo realised that he was rudely staring, so spluttered apologetically. “Ah, the coffee is good enough for a village as small as this, I suppose.”

The stranger nodded politely and took a step towards him, offering his hand. “Smaug Azugâl, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Right. Yes.” He dusted his hands on his apron and stepped forward, shaking his hand briskly and trying not to notice how his hands were utterly engulfed in the giant, slender hands of his visitor. “Bilbo Baggins, welcome to my teahouse.” Bilbo laughed nervously and took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, avoiding eye contact.

Smaug eyed him interestingly, and took another step forward. “You mentioned Mister Durin earlier, am I correct to assume that you two are…” He smirked, the smile not reaching his eyes. “…friends?”

Bilbo spluttered. “I’m very sorry, but what  _exactly_  are you insinuating?”

He laughed quietly, the sound unnerving Bilbo immensely. “Never mind.” Smaug sauntered across the room and fluidly sat down on the lounge near the barista machine, stretching out his long limbs lazily like a giant cat. “So what is it exactly you  _do_ , my new friend?”

The Hobbit winced, not enjoying Smaug’s insincere friendliness one bit. “I just run things around here really, nothing too exciting.”

Smaug tutted, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Nothing exciting? I don’t believe that for a second. All those loud neighbours of yours must be quite the handful, always poking their noses where they don’t belong.”

His back stiffened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, they’ve been perfectly fine.”

“Leaving you locked in a cupboard all night? That doesn’t sound like good neighbourly behaviour at all.” Smaug’s eyes twinkled, noticing how Bilbo had visibly flinched at the mention of that night. “Or perhaps the company made it more bearable?” He added, his unnerving smile returning.

Bilbo clenched his hands into fists, willing himself to remain as polite as possible. “Look mate, I don’t know why you’re here, or how you know that Thorin and I were locked in that bloody room; but if you’re not here to have a cup of tea I must ask you to leave.”

“Earl grey with two, if you’ll be so kind.”

He spun on the spot and went behind the counter, thankful to have some furniture in between them. Bilbo pulled out a teapot and started fussing with tealeaves, for a moment forgetting Smaug’s keen eyes were still watching him.

“So…” Smaug drawled, the sound making Bilbo stiffen as he poured boiling water into the pot. “Have you been spending much time with our mutual friend, Mister Durin?”

Thankful his back was turned, Bilbo pursed his lips in distaste. “Enough time to know you two are not exactly friends.”

Smaug raised an eyebrow, a smirk blossoming on his face. “Oh really, now? I’m sure he explained the entire situation to you, warts and all?”

“Balin wouldn’t lie.”

He clapped his hands together, making Bilbo jump and face him. “Ah yes, Balin Fundinson. My favourite Campaign Manager. Truly a scoundrel that one, a man after my own heart.”

“You’re lying.”

Smaug rolled his eyes. “Come now, Mister Baggins, you seem smarter than that. Don’t be so quick to trust that lot,  _especially_  Balin. They’ll use you for their own devices, and when they’re finished they’ll leave you far, far behind.”

Bilbo crossed his arms. “And I should believe everything you say, then?”

He nodded, eyeing him amusedly. “Ah, yes. There is also that to take into account.” Smaug leant forward on the lounge, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I think we both know that they’re not telling you everything.”

“It’s none of my business, they’ll tell me when they’re ready.” He responded flatly, trying to ignore the nagging voice at the back of his head, which was agreeing with Smaug’s words.

“And they’ve told you about Frerin, then?”

That piqued his interest. “I don’t think so? That was his brother, yeah?”

Feeling utterly satisfied that Bilbo was taking the bait; Smaug leant back against the lounge again, smirking up at him. “His younger brother, yes. Poor man had a few skeletons in his closet; he didn’t have the best luck in making the right friends. Terrible business.”

“And I should care because…” He replied as nonchalantly as he could, trying to mask his interest.

“It isn’t all as black and white as it may seem, be wary of them.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “How about you don’t talk in riddles, alright? No offence, but I really don’t know who the hell you are, or why you’ve come to visit just to warn me about them.” He cleared his throat and eyed him challengingly. “Also, you don’t know me.”

Smaug raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, Mister Baggins?” He stood slowly, towering over him. “Then I think I must remedy that and get to know you better.”

“You’re wasting your time, mate.”

He chuckled darkly. “We’ll see about that.” Smaug strode towards the door and turned around at the last moment. “I look forward to us getting to know each other over the next few weeks, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Goodbye, Mister Azugâl.” Bilbo replied stiffly, arms still crossed at his chest.

“I imagine we’ll be seeing each other again quite soon.” He added as he winked and strode out the front door.

Bilbo’s chest sagged, as he released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding in. “What the fuck was that?” He turned to put the half-made pot of tea in the wash, and froze as he heard the door open again. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me, but please just leave, I don’t want any trouble.”

Loud footsteps closed in and he felt a familiar warmth at his back, and inhaled roughly, instantly calmed by the deep, rich smell of Thorin. The taller man put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders, standing close behind him. “Did he hurt you? Are you alright?”

He leaned backwards into Thorin’s radiating heat, closing his eyes. “That man is truly chilling, there’s just something  _off_  about his voice that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Thorin turned Bilbo around in his hold, eyeing him searchingly. “Bilbo, you didn’t answer me. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m quite fine.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’ve handled worse, Thorin. Calm down.”

“Are you sure he didn’t touch you?”

Bilbo took a small step back. “Uh, why would he touch me? He just asked me a few questions is all. Said some weird things about Balin and your brother.”

Thorin froze. “Why was he talking about Frerin?”

He shrugged. “I think he was just trying to get a reaction from me, really. He seems like he enjoys playing with people.” Bilbo cleared his voice pointedly. “Also, his men have been watching you all. He knew about our little  _sleepover_  in the pantry."

“Yes I know, Nori dealt with one of his men yesterday.”

“You were texting me all day and forgot to mention that!” Bilbo spluttered, and he took another step back, breaking physical contact with Thorin. “And please do explain what you mean by  _dealt with_.”

Thorin shrugged nonchalantly. “He just knocked the man out and took all his gear, nothing too extreme.”

“ _Extreme_!” Bilbo nearly yelled, eyes wide. “Thorin, you’re talking about _assault_! Far too casually and comfortably, I must add.”

“He was trespassing on our property and threw the first punch. It was completely legal.” He replied, rolling his eyes.

“ _Christ_ , Thorin.” He leant over and braced his hands on his knees, his heartbeat loud in his ears. “I live next door!”

Thorin took a step forward and reached out as if he was about to comfort Bilbo, then stopped as he saw Bilbo flinch. His hand dropped at his side, and he sighed as he scrubbed his face with his other hand. “You’re not in danger, I would have moved you somewhere safe if you were.”

Bilbo looked up at him, eyes wide. “What the fuck do you mean  _moved_? Bag End is my home!”

“Not if it isn’t safe.” Thorin replied quietly, avoiding eye contact.

Something snapped in Bilbo, and he stood up straight, rage replacing the fear in his veins. “And why might it not be safe? Hmm? Tell me that?”

“I never intended for things to…  _develop_  between us, Bilbo. It’s now my duty to keep you safe, I’ve put you in harms way.”

“I’m so fucking sorry we’re  _developed_ , Thorin.” He laughed mirthlessly, making Thorin wince at the harsh sound. “Also, what exactly is our _development_ , huh? We kiss and almost-shag once, so now I’m under your bloody  _protection_?”

He coughed awkwardly, eyes still avoiding Bilbo’s. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“ _Please_ , do go and explain how I’ve been a mistake, and now a burden.” Bilbo asked, glaring daggers up at him. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m  _pretty sure_  a few kisses doesn’t mean you have control over me.”

“I never meant that I wanted to control you, all I mean is-”

“-That you’d kick me out of my home if you thought I was in trouble. Of course.” He took a step forward, the sound making Thorin turn and look down at him. “I can look after myself, Christ, how many times must I stress that to you, you prat.”

“Smaug and his people… they’re not good men. I should never have brought you into this.”

“Then why did you, huh? So I’m just your, I don’t know,  _country shag_  while you’re away from your wife in London-”

Thorin reached forward, gently holding Bilbo’s arm and looked down at him, eyes wild with emotion. “I don’t regret what has happened between us, never think that for one moment. It’s just…” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ve brought you into this and can’t think of a way to get you out of it.”

“Then don’t.” Bilbo replied flatly, raising an eyebrow. “Stop fucking apologising and start telling me what I’m actually in for.”

He let go of Bilbo’s arm and took a step back. “I can’t-”

“-Oh don’t start on that shit again Thorin,  _really_.” He pushed against Thorin’s chest, looking up at him furiously. “Can you just stop playing the martyr,  _grow a pair_ , and tell me what I may or may not be getting myself into.”

“I can’t continue…” He gestured between them. “… _this_  if I know it’s putting you in harms way.”

“That’s great and all, and I see where you’re coming from, but shouldn’t I have a say in the matter?” He pushed against Thorin’s chest again, making him take a step backwards. “I can handle it! I have had to identify both my parents from multiple body parts, strewn across a motorway. When I say I can take it, I really fucking can.”

Thorin froze, looking down at him. “Bilbo…”

“Don’t  _Bilbo_  me, really.” He crossed his arms. “What the hell do I have to do to convince you I’m not made of glass, Thorin? Because I will eventually give up, my patience  _is_  limited.”

“I’m only doing what I think is right.”

“No, you’re running away.” Bilbo scrubbed his face tiredly with his hands. “Look, I know we’ve only known each other for just over a week, and this is really too bloody soon to be having this talk, but just… trust me, alright? Whatever this…” He gestured between them, mirroring Thorin’s move earlier. “…is, as I have said a thousand times, I can handle it. But only if you start being honest with me.”

“I need to think about this.”

“Good. Much better than  _‘I can’t do this’_ , I can work with that.” He walked behind the counter, cut Thorin a slice of apple tart, put it in a paper bag, then handed it over to the silent man. “Go eat some cake, have a think about it, and call me tomorrow. But don’t play with me and lead me on, Thorin. Above all else, you’re better than that.”

“I won’t lead you on, I swear.”

“Fantastic.” He reached up on his tippy toes and kissed Thorin on the cheek, turned him around and pushed him towards the door. “Now go and deliberate you beautiful, brooding man.” 

Thorin chuckled, and headed out the door. “You’re too good for me.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.”

\---

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Bilbo put a bookmark in his novel, put it down on his bedside table and turned off his lamp, yawning loudly. He picked up his phone and squinted at it, eyes not used to the startlingly bright screen in the dark room.

“Christ, it’s passed midnight. I really should have been asleep hours ago.”

He put his phone back down and rolled onto his side, curling around the soft pillow that was under his head. Bilbo yanked up the covers under his chin and scrunched his eyes shut, trying his hardest to sleep, but there was far too much flying around in his head after what had happened today; the conversation between him and Thorin on repeat.

Rolling onto his back, he opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m perfectly safe, nothing is going to happen. Yes. Thorin’s just being dramatic.”

Hurried, urgent knocking sounded downstairs, making Bilbo yelp loudly and clutch the blankets to his chest. He froze, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears.

“There is absolutely  _nothing_  that would make me leave this bed, no Goddamn way.” The knocking stopped, and Bilbo let out a relieved breath. “Finally, brilliant.”

A loud thud sounded at his window, eliciting a high pitched shriek from the startled man. “Was that a fucking  _shoe_!?”

Another shoe followed the first. “Bbbilbooo!! Geddown h-here!”

He leaped out of bed and opened the window, leant out and looked down, and gasped. In the darkness he could make out a swaying Fili, holding up a half-awake Kili who looked like he was having issues using his legs.

“What the  _hell_  do you two think you’re doing? You’ll wake the neighbours!”

“Ffffuck th’ neighbours, K-kili is hurt.” Fili yelled back, and fell backwards as Kili’s legs gave way and his weight pulled them both down onto the grass.

“Christ. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Bilbo hurried back inside, pulled his dressing gown around himself, slipped his phone in his pocket and flew down the staircase to the front door. He yanked it open and tumbled backwards under the weight of the two brothers, cursing loudly under the heavy men.

 

“Sssorry, Bilbooo.” Fili offered, as he tried to pull Kili off him, failed, and slid down the hallway wall.

“What the hell! Have you two been drinking!” Bilbo whispered angrily as he pulled himself up and closed the front door, very aware of waking up the cottages on either side of him. Especially the one filled with Londoners and one soon-to-be-furious Uncle.

Fili nodded animatedly, paused, then shook his head. “It s-started with drinks, but thennn… it was not-drinkss.” He slurred, frowning up at Bilbo, as he pulled Kili up to sit next to him against the wall.

“What do you mean,  _not-drinks_?” Bilbo bent over and looked over both of them, noticing how blown out Kili’s pupils were. He reached forward and slapped Kili, who just smiled goofily and blinked slowly up at him. “Why the hell is your brother high as a kite!”

“Sssspiked.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Nice try, this is Hobbiton you’re talking about.” He sniffed Kili, looking him over. “You don’t smell like you’ve shared a spliff, so what is it then?” No response. “Come on, I was young once, I’m not eighty. What did you take, I can’t help you if you don’t talk.”

“I-It wasssn’t one o’ you lot, it wwwas Bolg. He c-caught us spyin’”

“What the hell is a  _Bolg_? That a name for some new drug you youths take?”

Fili shook his head vigorously, scrunching up his face, obviously annoyed by his current state and slurred speech. “Bolg works for Sssssmaug.”

He froze. “Oh  _fuck_.”

“Yyyyeah. Dunno wha’ we took.”

“Alright. Christ.” He pulled Kili up, hoisting him under his arm to support him. “We can deal with this, come on, let’s get you both comfortable and upright.” Bilbo brought Kili into the lounge room, his brother swaying as he followed.

Fili collapsed into the couch and Bilbo carefully sat Kili next to him, ensuring they were both able to breathe. He undid Kili’s collar and put an ear to his chest, listening to his breathing.

“It’s really, really quiet, Fili.”

The older brother nodded groggily, and patted on his own chest. “Same. Feelin’ real relaxed, but K-Kili is worse. Can’t move ‘is legsss an’ he keeps spacin’ out.”

Bilbo squatted down and undid both of their shoes, then walked over to stoke the fire and warm up the cold room. “Why the hell were you two spying, you know it’s not safe around Smaug for you lot.”

“T-Trying t’ get some i-intel, see what he’s doinnnn.”

He turned around and put his hands on his hips. “And that went so damn well, didn’t it?”

Fili slumped down on the couch, his chin resting on his chest. “It was ‘is idea.”

“For God’s sake. You can tell him no, you know!” He tutted as he walked forward and pulled Fili back up so he could breathe properly.

“Nah.” Kili mumbled as he leant to his right and rested his head on Fili’s shoulder. “Feel ffffloaty.”

“You know I have to call your Uncle, don’t you?”

Both of their eyes widened in horror, and Kili made a distraught noise at the back of his throat. “Pleassse, no. H-He’ll kill us.”

Bilbo flailed animatedly. “And he’ll kill me if I let you both O.D. without calling him!"

Kili shook his head heavily. “B-Be over soon, had this b'fore.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

He nodded. “Explain laterrr. Never ‘ad this mmmuch though, jus’ need time.”

“Fine, but I don't like this, not one bit." He sighed raggedly, pinching his brow. "How long ago do you think your drinks were spiked?”

Fili scrunched his face in thought. “Time’s allllll… wobbly. No idea.”

“Right.” He watched them carefully, taking in their state. They both seemed relatively fine, just swaying a bit, with stupid grins on their faces. “Are you sure you’re both alright, you don’t feel like you can’t breathe, or anything?”

“N-Not as floaty as I was before, think ’m startin’ to come down.” Kili mumbled, closing his eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He reached down and slapped Kili across the face again, snapping him out of it. “You two will sit up, keep your eyes open, and breathe Goddamnit. And I will call your uncle if you seem like you’re about to pass out, you hear me?”

“Yessir.” They both mumbled, Kili pushing himself up from his brother’s shoulder so he sat up straight.

Bilbo sat on the coffee table in front of them, wringing his hands in his dressing gown. “You’re sure it isn’t laced with anything else?”

Kili sighed, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. “Nnnope, it all feels f-fine.”

“I really should call your Uncle.”

“T-Trust me, be over soon. See?” He wiggled his big toe, making Bilbo sigh with relief. “N-Nearly got ‘m legs back.”

“You two are in so much fucking trouble, do you know that?”

“As long as U-Uncle doesn’t see me like this, ‘m okay.” Fili slurred, as he sluggishly pulled a cushion to his chest and wrapped his arms around it.

“I’m calling him tomorrow morning, as soon as you two have showered and had breakfast.” He paused. “Wait… does he even know where you are right now?”

Fili winced. “Ohhhh man, we are in sooooo much trouble.”

“We deeeeeead.” Kili groaned at the ceiling.

Bilbo’s phone rang in his pocket, making them all freeze. He didn’t even have to look down at it to know who was calling. Clearing his throat, he accepted the call.

 

“Hello Bilbo speaking.”

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I did initially name said drug, but since I've never used anything hard myself, really shouldn't be talking about things I really have no idea about.  
> Just think of it as a... generic brain floaty-iser. Apologies.  
> -  
> Oh goodness I am sorry this has taken so long to post,  
> Work has been INSANE.  
> But it's calmed right down, not to fear!
> 
> This chapter was a little more serious and plot-heavy,  
> I'll be interested to hear what you think!
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	10. Three Durins Asleep Under the Hill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin bursts into the cottage,  
> Bilbo gets a little piece of revenge,  
> And a familiar face enters the Teahouse.

"I knew I said I'd call you tomorrow, but something's happened." Thorin's voice sounded strained and bordering on frantic, making Bilbo feel even more guilty than he already did. He should have called Thorin as soon as the boys walked in; their poor uncle must have been pulling his hair out with worry all night.  
  
Bilbo sighed raggedly and hunched forward, resting his elbows heavily on his knees as he pressed the phone against his face with one hand. "Yes, I know."  
  
Thorin paused. "What do you mean _you know_?"  
  
"They're here, and mostly in one piece."  
  
"Bilbo..." His voice stated increasing in volume, making Bilbo's stomach drop. "... Kindly define _mostly_?"  
  
He coughed uncomfortably, looking up at Fili and Kili, who were watching him with wide, frightened eyes. "Any chance one of your thirteen mates is a doctor?"  
  
Thorin swore. "What the hell have they gotten themselves into _now_?" His voice continued rising in volume, fear being replaced with fury.  
  
"Now Thorin, there's no need to start shouting, they-"  
  
"-Tell me _right now_ what's going on." The _thud_ of a door being slammed shut sounded in the background of the call, then muffled footsteps and the sleepy grumbles of someone as if they were being woken up.   
  
"Bolg caught them spying and slipped something into their drinks." Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut, awaiting Thorin's explosion.  
  
"Say that again." Thorin whispered dangerously.  
  
Bilbo gulped. "Fili and Kili were just trying to help you lot, they had no idea Azog had brought Bolg to watch out-"  
  
"THEY WERE IN THE SAME ROOM AS AZOG?!"  
  
He winced and looked up at Fili and Kili apologetically, the two now sitting up straight and watching him in absolute terror. They had both heard Thorin yelling over the phone and knew they were in for it, their uncle was positively livid.  
  
Bilbo cleared his throat, willing his voice to cooperate and not waver. "Yes?"  
  
Thorin swore again, this time rather colourfully in a guttural language Bilbo didn't understand; but his tone communicated the gist of what he was saying over the phone crystal clear. "I'm coming over."  
  
"Yes, I supposed you would be. Just…” He scrubbed his face tiredly with his free hand. “…be gentle with them, yeah? They’ve had a rough night.”  
  
“I do not need tips on how to handle my nephews, thank you, _Mister Baggins_.” He replied tersely, near-spitting out Bilbo’s name.  
  
He rolled his eyes, thoroughly over Thorin’s theatrics. “Take it out on me, that’s fine, but your two nephews are currently coming down from a decent trip and really don’t need you barging in and yelling at them!”  
  
“They’re _high_!”  
  
Bilbo groaned. “Oh, fuck.”  
  
The footsteps in the background of Thorin’s end of the call became louder, and Bilbo was sure he heard someone panting, as if they were running after the furious man. “I’m coming over now.”  
  
“Splendid, shall I put the tea on?” He asked with mock-cheeriness.  
  
“Do whatever you like, I’m just coming for my nephews.”  
  
“So that’s a _no_ for the tea?” Bilbo asked again, even more sweetly.  
  
Thorin growled and hung up.  
  
Bilbo blinked down at his phone for a moment, then looked up at the two brothers. “I am so sorry, but he’s coming over right now and he’s _pissed_.”  
  
The eldest clung tighter to the pillow in his grasp and hid behind it, whilst his younger brother covered his face with his hands. “Uncle is going to kill us, Fee.”  
  
Fili moaned in agreement. “Oh God he sounded soooo mad, I don’t think we have ever s-screwed up this bad.”  
  
“Stop wallowing and let’s fix this.” Bilbo stood up, straightening the lapels of his dressing gown. “You-” He pointed at Fili. “-stop sulking and sit up, you’ll need to appear as confident and coherent as you can when your uncle gets here. Now you-“ He turned, pointing at the younger brother now. “-pull yourself together, we can do this.”  
  
Bilbo hurried into the kitchen to fetch two glasses of water, ran back and handed one to each brother. “Splash your face a bit maybe? Have a drink?” He sighed, shifting anxiously from side to side. “I don’t know what to do to act sober, just smarten up a tad!”  
  
Kili sculled his glass, while Fili dipped his fingers in and splashed his face a few times before drinking it down as well.   
  
He nodded at them, returned the glasses to the kitchen and came back into the fire-lit room. “Well? Better?”   
  
Fili nodded slowly, and slapped his face a few times. “I feel a l-little more awake.”  
  
“Fili, I think you should do most of the talking. But keep it short. The more you talk, the more he will notice how high you are.” He turned to look at Kili, who was blinking slowly at the opposite wall, eyes unfocussed. “And Kili… perhaps leave the talking to your brother.”  
  
The younger brother nodded heavily. “G-Good idea.”  
  
Loud knocks sounded at the Kitchen door, making Bilbo stiffen and clench his fists. “Right. It’s go time.” He took a few steps towards the hallway and turned back towards them. “Just… act normal?”  
  
The older brother scoffed. “He knows we’re f-fucked, Bilbo."  
  
“Yes, but just… cover it up a touch?”  
  
Fili rolled his eyes. “Yeeeees, now go get uncle before h-he explodes."  
  
“Good idea.” Bilbo nodded and scampered to the door, his bare feet slapping loudly against the cold, tiled floor. “Yes, yes. Coming.”  
  
He unlocked the door, turned the handLe and was greeted by a fuming Thorin, still in the day's suit, with Dwalin and an old man Bilbo had never met before, both still in their sleepwear. The old, grey-haired man smiled warmly and nodded his head in greeting, but the other two squinted furiously at Bilbo, a vein starting to bulge in Thorin’s forehead.   
  
Bilbo gulped audibly, and put on a forced smile. “Evening, Gents.”  
  
Thorin surged forward, making Bilbo take a few quick steps backward to avoid being run into. Dwalin followed in the same brash manner, but the third unnamed stranger entered the dark room with much more finesse, and shook Bilbo’s hand.  
  
“It’s Oin, lad. I’m a Physician for Thorin and his lot while we’re on the road.” He leant forward, lowering his voice. “We better follow those two quickly and do a little damage control, otherwise Thorin might get a little… carried away.”  
  
He nodded hurriedly as they both rushed after Thorin and Dwalin, who had walked ahead and had only just entered the lounge. “Thorin, just wait a moment-“ Bilbo turned the corner and covered his mouth with one hand, surprised by what he encountered.  
  
Thorin had collapsed on his knees in front of Fili and Kili on the couch and wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into a tight embrace. Giving them a private moment, the security guard had crossed his arms and was leaning against the entrance, staring up at the ceiling while the exchange took place.  
  
“You stupid, stupid boys. What the hell were you thinking!” Thorin scolded, the hard edge to his voice gone.   
  
“We just w-wanted to help, we know you’re stressed with everything that’s going on.” Fill mumbled quietly, his reply muffled in his uncle’s shoulder.  
  
He pulled back from the hug so he could see both of their faces, and looked at them in turn. “You’re both so young, don’t ever think that any of the burden falls to you two.”  
  
Fill bowed his head, avoiding his uncle’s piercing blue eyes. “I know, b-but we heard Azog was down at the pub and just thought…”  
  
“No, you didn’t think. That’s the problem.” Thorin stood up and gestured to the Physician. “Oin?"  
  
Oin bustled forward and sat on the coffee table before them, pulling a small torch out of his leather satchel. “Come on lads, Fili first.”  
  
Thorin strode out of the room, grabbed Dwalin’s elbow and pulled him into the hallway, whispering furiously and gesturing towards his nephews every few seconds.   
  
Uncomfortable with being so close to the heated conversation, Bilbo walked behind Oin and leant down to speak quietly in his ear. “Can I help at all? I feel rather useless.”  
  
He chuckled good-naturedly and shook his head. “You can hover if you like to avoid Thorin’s glare, but I’m good here, thank you.”   
  
Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Brilliant, cheers.” He put his hands in his pockets and watched Oin examine the two brothers, sneaking a look to his left to watch Thorin and Dwalin now and again. The furious whispers had started increasing in volume, making him start to worry. Whatever was being discussed was not good, not good at all.  
  
A few more minutes passed and Oin sat back on the small table, putting the last of his medical instruments in his bag. “Thorin, I’m done over here."  
  
Thorin uncrossed his arms and walked back into the room, looking down at Oin expectingly. “Well?”  
  
“It’s what I thought, one of the main drugs people usually slip in drinks at clubs and the like, I’ve seen this before working the night shifts back in London. The lads just need a little time to ride the rest of it out, they’re nearly done.” He stood up, groaning while holding his back. “They’ll need lots of rest tonight and all tomorrow, Kili will probably have stiff legs for a little while, but nothing to worry about.” Oin clapped Fili on the shoulder. “Consider yourselves lucky, boys. It could have been a lot worse.”  
  
Bilbo let out a relieved breath and clapped a hand against his chest. “Thank Christ! Nothing to worry about.”  
  
“ _Nothing to worry about_?” Thorin turned slowly, squinting down at Bilbo dangerously. “ _Nothing to worry about!_  They could have died!” He roared, gesturing behind him to the couch where his nephews timidly sat.  
  
Oin winced. “Keep it down Thorin, or you’ll burst my only working ear drum!” He reached behind his hear to turn down a hearing aid that Bilbo hadn’t noticed previously, and grumbled under his breath.   
  
Thorin sighed and rubbed his face roughly with both hands. “My apologies, Oin.”  
  
The old man tutted disparagingly and slowly walked towards the hallway. “I’m off to bed, and so should you all be, sooner rather than later. Night.”  
  
Everyone mumbled a reply but Thorin, who had now turned to look down at his nephews, arms crossed.  
  
Bilbo worried his bottom lip with his teeth. “No offence or anything, but since it’s more quiet here, if you want, the boys can stay over tonight?"  
  
Fili looked up at his uncle timidly. "P-Please? I dont want anyone seeing me like this."  
  
His brother grunted in agreement. "It's embarrassing."   
  
"You were _attacked_ , boys. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, it wasn't your fault." Bilbo said soothingly, as he smiled at them softly. "But I do think some quiet will do you good."  
  
Thorin rolled his eyes. "Fine, but if I hear you're annoying Bilbo you're coming straight home. He has my number."  
  
"Yeah we know, you wouldn't stop blushing at your phone all yesterday." Fili murmured under his breath to his brother, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from him.   
  
Bilbo pursed his lips so as not to grin, and Thorin sighed exasperatedly. "Like I said, you bother Bilbo and you're coming straight back to the cottage. Agreed?"  
  
They both nodded, and a wide grin appeared slowly on Thorin's face.   
  
Fili gulped. " _What_?"  
  
"All the bother you've put Bilbo through tonight, I think you should both do something to repay him, don't you?"  
  
Bilbo shook his head, making his auburn curls fall about his face. "No. No, no no. That's quite unnecessary, no need. Nope."  
  
Thorin's grin widened. "You two are going to help out at the Teahouse for two weeks, no pay, until you learn some responsibility. Hopefully some of Bilbo's _country manners_ rub off on you."  
  
" _Two weeks_?" Kili and Bilbo spluttered in unison, eyes wide.   
  
He grinned at both of them, ignoring how Fili had pulled the pillow back over his face. "Yes, two weeks." Thorin turned to Bilbo. "Fire that useless lad you've got, Fili and Kili will help you for a fortnight while you look for a replacement. Everybody wins."  
  
Kili spluttered once more. " _Everybody wins?_!"   
  
"Is a side effect of whatever you've taken repetition, Kili, because I must say it's getting rather tedious." He smirked. "Two weeks. Waking at nine every morning. Serving tea. You'll have a great time."  
  
A muffled groan was heard from behind the pillow over Fili's face. "This is going to be hell."  
  
Bilbo coughed pointedly. "I think it's great and all that you want to teach the boys responsibility, but does it have to take place in my Teahouse?"  
  
Thorin's smirk faded. "I just thought you could use some help around the place? If you don't want the boys to work there, of course I won't force you." He leant down to stage-whisper in Bilbo's ear. "Any awful cleaning jobs you've been avoiding for a while you can just get them to do."  
  
Realising what a brilliant opportunity this could be, Bilbo mirrored Thorin's smirk and looked down at Kili and his brother, as Fili emerged from behind his pillow with an expression of pure horror. "I do have that awful gate in the front garden that hasn't been scrubbed in over a year; the spiders keep making a real mess of it, there's webs everywhere."  
  
Fili squinted up at him distrustfully. "I though you were nice, b-but now I see you're just as evil as uncle. You two deserve each other."  
  
Bilbo waved the comment away nonchalantly, while Thorin cleared his throat awkwardly, a slight blush creeping up his neck.   
  
Completely oblivious to Thorin's reaction, Bilbo clapped his hands together pointedly. "Well. I suppose it's time to get you both upstairs and in bed." He looked over their clothes, scrunching his nose in distaste at the thought of their dirty and grass-stained trousers in his cosy, clean guest beds; and turned to look up at Thorin. "Any chance at all you can be a dear, whip next door and fetch a clean change of clothes for them both?"  
  
Completely forgotten about up until that moment, Dwalin cleared his throat from where he was standing in the doorway, making Bilbo jump and clasp a hand to his chest in surprise. "Aye, I'll fetch the lads some clean pyjamas, you two get them upstairs and settled." He smirked slyly at Thorin. " _Dear_."  
  
Bilbo stared at his feet and coughed uncomfortably, while Thorin rolled his eyes and walked over to talk quietly in Dwalin's ear. They nodded at each other, Thorin gripped his shoulder companionably, and Dwalin left.  
  
Thorin gestured for Bilbo to come talk by the doorway, and Bilbo joined him. Once he was in ear shot, he pulled him out into the hallway.  
  
The Hobbit looked up at him questioningly. "What?"  
  
"Dwalin thinks it's a good idea if we stay here overnight as well, just to keep watch. He's telling Nori to keep an eye out over at the cottage as well."  
  
Bilbo spluttered. "Keep _watch_?!"  
  
Thorin held a finger up to Bilbo's lips, silencing him. "Yes. Keep your voice down, I don't want to worry Fili and Kili." He popped his head back into the lounge to make sure the brothers weren't eavesdropping, but the two were just talking quietly amongst themselves. "Yes. Dwalin seems to think that there could be a chance the reason why they were drugged was so that they could be easily... retrieved later tonight."  
  
He took a small step back, and Thorin's hand fell from his lips. "Are we in danger, Thorin?"  
  
"I don't think so, Fili and Kili are nearly sober, they would have kidnapped them by now if they were going to."   
  
Bilbo's eyes went wide and he stared up at the ceiling, hands clenching into fists at his side. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "And that is supposed to fucking comfort me?"  
  
Thorin shook his head, even though Bilbo couldn't see it with his eyes still slammed shut. "No, it's the truth. I thought you said earlier today that's what you wanted?"  
  
His eyes flew open. "Well. Yes." Bilbo furrowed his brow, stared at his feet, then looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, you're right."  
  
A grin blossomed on his face. "Can I get that in writing perhaps? I feel like it's going to be a long time until you say that again."  
  
Bilbo chuckled quietly and leant against the hallway wall, looking up at him. "Maybe later if I'm feeling generous." He sighed. "But are you ok, Thorin? Honestly?"  
  
"I'm angry, but I'm fine." Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him. "What, Bilbo? I am."  
  
He crossed his arms. "Your nephews just got drugged by one of Azog's men, and you say you're _angry but fine_. Come on, pull the other one."  
  
"I'm still... thinking it over. Working it out."  He rubbed his face tiredly. "I knew he would eventually come for me again, but I never though he would stoop so low as to attack my family." Thorin groaned. "Oh God, as soon as Dis finds out about this, I'm dead."  
  
"Well I'm staying well out of that one. You're on your own, sorry."   
  
Thorin laughed softly. "Thanks for the support, really."  
  
"You're a big strong man, you can handle her." Bilbo smirked up at him.  
  
"She'll kill me, and it's all because you didn't defend me. You should be ashamed of yourself."  
  
Bilbo rolled his eyes, smiling fondly. "You're a prat."  
  
He shrugged noncommittedly. "Perhaps."  
  
A loud _thud_  sounded from the lounge making Bilbo and Thorin rush into the room, only to be met by Kili standing at the fireplace looking bashful, firewood strewn about the floor at his feet.  
  
"And what, exactly, do you think you're doing?" Thorin asked, trying to hide his amusement.  
  
Kili pointed at the fire behind him. "It's c-cold in here, trying to get warm."  
  
"Come on, let's get you two upstairs, shall we? I'll start a fire in both your rooms."  
  
Fili looked over at his brother, who nodded at him, then back up to Bilbo. "About that... er." He cleared his throat. "Can we stay in the same room tonight? We're just feeling a little... Uh."  
  
Bilbo smiled warmly down at him. "Of course, you don't have to explain yourself. I have a spare room with two King Singles in it, you can use that one."  
  
A look of relief washed over his face. "Thanks Bilbo, really."  
  
"Not a problem."   
  
Kili took a wobbly step over, then shot a pained look over at Thorin. "Uh, uncle, c-could I maybe have a little help?"  
  
He nodded and strode over, pulling one of Kili's arms over his own shoulder, taking most of his nephew's weight. "Let's get you to bed, you troublemaker." He chided in jest, a small smile playing about his face.  
  
"Thanks." He mumbled in response, still embarrassed about his current state.  
  
Fili rose to his feet slowly, swatting away Bilbo's hands as the Hobbit reached out to steady him. "I'm fine, really. See?" He pointed at his mouth. "Slur's gone."  
  
Bilbo eyed him disbelievingly. "You're sure?"  
  
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're worse than Dori, you are."  
  
"Piss off."

  
\---

  
" _Bilbo_? You awake?"  
  
Bilbo rolled over in bed and heaved himself up on one elbow, squinting at the tall silhouette standing at his bedroom door. "Thorin?"  
  
Taking that as an invitation in; Thorin entered, closed the door behind himself and stood awkwardly at the door, shifting from side to side. It was incredibly endearing, and Bilbo smiled softly at the sight.   
  
Remembering his manners as host, he cleared his throat and sat up, turning on the beside lamp. They both blinked in the light, then once their eyes adjusted to the brightness they looked over at each other.  
  
He scrubbed his face tiredly. "Is everything alright?"  
  
Thorin nodded, and took another step closer. "It's just... Uh. That couch in the hallway is impossible to sleep on. I think I've done something to my neck."  
  
Bilbo snorted. "I know it's uncomfortable, you git. I said you should have just slept in one of the guest rooms but oh no, you have to _sleep in the hallway and guard your defenceless nephews._ " He rolled his eyes. "I have more than one guest bedroom, you know."  
  
"They're all cold."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, thoroughly amused by how much Thorin sounded like a petulant child. "Funny thing about that, it being an early Spring night and all."  
  
Thorin rolled his eyes. "Are you going to make this as hard for me as possible?"  
  
"Of course." He leant back against the headboard, smiling up at him innocently. "So, why are the other rooms inferior, huh?"  
  
"They're... _empty_." Thorin mumbled.  
  
"Sorry, missed that."  
  
"Just." He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "Can I please join you in bed?"  
  
Bilbo grinned. "Why of course! Why didn't you just say so when you first walked in?"  
  
Thorin grumbled under his breath something about frustrating Hobbits and walked over to the unoccupied side of the bed. Bilbo reached over and pulled the duvet back, patting the bed invitingly, and smiled up at him. "Thanks." He Grumbled as he slipped into bed and pulled the blankets over himself, lying on his side, and looked up at Bilbo.  
  
"You know, Thorin, I'm a pretty simple guy." He shuffled down in bed so he was lying on his pillow facing Thorin, their heads just over a foot apart. "If you ever want to do something like come to bed just to talk or kiss or whatever, all you've got to do is say so."  
  
The politician huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not exactly in the habit of asking for things like that all the time."   
  
He grinned. "Well, depending on what your final decision is, you'd best get used to it." Bilbo asked jokingly, but then saw how Thorin's face fell and immediately wished he hadn't. "No pressure or anything to give me an answer now, I did say tomorrow!"  
  
"About that..." He swallowed thickly. "I know it's no excuse, and you don't have to say anything in response, but I wanted to apologise for how I've treated you over the past... letting my anger get the best of me. There have been some... _things_ going on back at home lately and I fear I've taken it out on you now and then."  
  
The smile faded from Bilbo's lips, and he shook his head slowly. "Don't worry about it, really, I know you've got _stuff_ going on. Just... don't coddle me or yell too much, and you're fine." He cleared his throat. "Also, I know I said this earlier today, but perhaps be a little more open about everything? I get the feeling you have a lot going on in that head of yours that you don't share with anyone."  
  
Thorin closed his eyes and sighed raggedly. "It's my responsibility to protect them, they don't need to know all the details of what's really going on. I don't want to worry them if I don't have to, I can carry the burden."  
  
Bilbo poked him in the ribs, making him release a quiet _oof_ and open his eyes. "You'll crash and burn if you internalise and carry everything, Thorin Durin, and you know it."  
  
He raised an eyebrow coyly. "Are you always this gentle when you give advice?"  
  
"You're lucky I haven't slapped you, the amount of bullshit that's coming out of your mouth." Bilbo pulled the blankets up under his chin and curled his legs up against his chest. "You do know that you can talk to me, yeah? I'm not one of ' _them_ ', and you can trust me not to talk."  
  
"I know... I'll tell you when I'm ready."  
  
"Good." He sniffled, and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Is everything okay at home though? You don't have to tell me details."  
  
"It's... tense. I worry about leaving Dis by herself for too long to deal with everything; I think I'll have to go back soon, especially after what's happened with Fili and Kili." He looked up at Bilbo apologetically. "Sooner rather than later, actually."  
  
"How soon?" Bilbo asked softly, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.  
  
"In two days, it's the first flight I could find."  
  
"Oh." He looked down at his hands, internally yelling at himself for caring so much that Thorin was leaving. "That bad, huh?"  
  
He hummed in agreement. "That bad."  
  
They both stared at each other for a little while in comfortable silence, the only sound in the room their quiet breaths.   
  
Thorin shuffled a little closer to Bilbo, leaving a small gap between them. "I won't be gone long, two or three days at most." He reached up and cupped Bilbo's cheek, running his thumb across the smooth skin. "Don't worry."  
  
Bilbo huffed. "I'll worry if I bloody want to." He squinted warily up at him. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you?"  
  
"Of course not." He chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around Bilbo's middle, pulling him closer so their chests were flush against each other.  
  
"You better fucking not. Or you'll have to deal with me when you get back." He wiggled down, so his head fit comfortably under Thorin's chin, against the crook of his neck.   
  
Thorin made small circles with the pads of his fingers against Bilbo's back, making him positively melt into the mattress. "I'll come back in once piece, then before you know it you'll be sick of me."  
  
"Ridiculous." Bilbo nuzzled even closer, taking in Thorin's rich, earthy scent. The dark chest hairs that poked out the top of his black vest tickled his nose, making him snuffle his nose against Thorin's warm skin.   
  
Utterly charmed by the coziness of the sleepy Hobbit, Thorin closed his eyes and felt his body begin to relax. "Whatever _this_ is... It's nice. I like it."  
  
Bilbo smiled to himself. "Me too."

  
\---

  
The hairs started pricking up at the back of Bilbo's neck in his sleepy, half awake state; the eerie feeling that someone was watching him awakening him. Opening one eye slowly, he was met by the soft smile of his cosy bedfellow. He grumbled, closing the eye right back up.   
  
"Granted, you're gorgeous, but it's too fucking early to be awake."  
  
Thorin chuckled. "Good morning to you too."  
  
He snuggled in closer to Thorin's warmth and noticed something rather hard resting against his soft stomach. Bilbo grinned, the perfect revenge for waking him up early coming to him. "Seems like one part of you is a touch more awake than the rest, though." He said as nonchalantly as he could while he rolled his hips against Thorin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from the man.  
  
" _Bilbo_." Thorin moaned breathlessly, as he slipped his hand up the back of Bilbo's baggy white tee and grabbed at the soft flesh.  
  
Aiming to make Thorin utterly fall apart, Bilbo mustered all his strength and rolled them both over so he was straddling the Politician, knees resting against each of his strong thighs. He leant forward and rocked his hips again, then bit down on the taller man's collarbone as Thorin keened his hips upward, lifting them both.   
  
He rested his chest against Thorin's, licking a trail from his neck to his jawline, making him shudder and gasp for air. "Thorin, can I ask you something?" He whispered as roughly as he could, nibbling at his ear lobe cheekily.  
  
All Thorin could do was nod eagerly and release a needy moan at the back of his throat, his hands both kneading Bilbo's arse.   
  
Bilbo chuckled darkly and reached down between them, cupping the bulk at the front of the mans grey sweatpants. " _Anything_?"  
  
"God, yes. A-Anything." He stuttered, as he gripped Bilbo's arse even tighter.  
  
He shimmied up Thorin's body, his lips pressed flush against the mans ear. "Don't wake me up at sunrise ever, ever again."  
  
At that, he peeled himself off Thorin and climbed out of bed, ignoring the wounded noise that the taller man had made at the back of his throat. He pulled his shirt off and smiled down at him coyly. "Well, glad that's sorted. Get dressed, let's make breakfast."  
  
Thorin groaned raggedly and looked up at him desperately, absolutely wrecked. "You're evil."  
  
Bilbo put his hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow. "You're the one who woke me up at this ungodly hour, you only have yourself to blame."  
  
"Pure evil."  
  
He laughed brightly and threw Thorin's clothes across the room, onto the taller man's head. "Come on, as if we were going to do anything with your nephews two doors down and Dwalin downstairs."  
  
"Still evil."  
  
"You big softie." He rolled his eyes and climbed up on the bed, hovering over Thorin again. Smiling fondly, he leaned down and kissed Thorin roughly and thoroughly, enjoying the long sigh Thorin released as soon a their lips first touched.   
  
As soon as the kiss started turning a little _too_ passionate, he pulled back and sat by Thorin's side, stroking along his chest up and down, using just the lightest touch of his fingertips. "I'm not that awful."  
  
"The absolute worst."  
  
He laughed warmly, tilting his head back, and slid out of bed; pulling Thorin's hand after him. "Come on, get dressed. Breakfast time."  
  
Thorin's eyes twinkled. "Only if I get to watch you change first." He reached out and pinched Bilbo's left buttock, making him yelp and bound forward, covering his behind with both hands.  
  
"What's gotten into you this morning?" He laughed whilst he walked backwards, hands outstretched to stop Thorin if he tried to pinch him again.  
  
He smirked up at him from the bed, where he was still outstretched. "You, you've got me all riled up on purpose."  
  
Bilbo leant down and picked up a few pieces of clothing from the couch, holding them against his naked chest. "You woke me up, you deal with the consequences." He walked to the bathroom door and winked down at Thorin. "So no, you don't get to watch me change, you'll have to earn the right to see my gorgeous, naked body."  
  
Before Thorin could speak a word, he grinned and ran into the ensuite, locking the door behind him.  
  
Thorin groaned and fell back onto the pillows. "You're a menace!"  
  
Bilbo's loud laugh could be heard through the bathroom door, and the sound of a shower starting to run. "And you're the one alone in my bed."  
  
"Come join me then!"   
  
More laughter. "Get dressed, you wet blanket."  
  
Thorin grinned. "I'll _make_ your blanket wet, the state you've got me in."  
  
"Don't you _dare_ wank in my bed!" Bilbo howled, thumping against the door.  
  
He started hitting the back of his hand against the inside of his opposite forearm, mimicking the sound. "Too late." Thorin released a dramatic groan, trying to make it sound as ridiculous as possible.  
  
"Why, you fucking-" Bilbo ripped open the door, standing only his red pants.  
  
Thorin smiled up at him innocently, then raised his middle finger at the flustered Hobbit.   
  
 _"Checkmate_."

  
\---

  
"Yes, Ted, I know you're just nervous, but you've had three shifts here and you've still not improved."   
  
He did his third lap of the teahouse, biting his lip. This was the thing he hated most about running a business, firing people, even when he knew he had to.  
  
Bilbo sighed into the phone. "I'm sorry Ted, it's nothing personal, you're just not cut out for this place."  
  
"Yeah, I thought so. Sorry Mister Bilbo." Ted's timid voice replied.  
  
"It's not your fault mate, you'll find the right job soon enough." He cleared his throat. "Anyway have a good week yeah, I've got to open up shop."  
  
"You too, Mister Bilbo."  
  
"Bye." He ended the call and slipped his phone in his pocket, wincing. "Fuck, I hate doing that."  
  
He walked back behind the barista machine and continued getting ready for the morning rush. The door opened and bell sounded, signalling someone had walked in, so he popped his head up to see over the copper machine and froze.  
  
Smaug was back, and this time with company.  
  
Bilbo gulped dryly, taking in the utterly terrifying view of Smaug's companion. He had most definitely seen this monster of a man before, his pale and scarred skin giving him away instantly. Azog.  
  
Trying to mask his discomfort, he wore the bravest smile he could muster. "Morning Gents, what can I do for you on this fine, Spring day?"  
  
Azog rolled his eyes, thoroughly disinterested in the niceties, and sat at the table closest to the door, glaring out the window. "The usual, Boss." He grunted, while putting his black Ray Bans in his charcoal suit jacket pocket.  
  
Ignoring his rude companion, Smaug sauntered forward cooly, his left hand casually in his pocket as he gestured around the empty Teahouse with his right. "Some delicious hot beverages and scintillating conversation, what else, my dear friend?"  
  
Bilbo's hands clenched in distaste, luckily hidden from sight behind the large espresso machine. "Two things I'll happily provide for all my customers. What will it be today?"  
  
Smaug draped one elbow across the top of the coffee machine, smirking down at him. "A Cappuccino for my companion and a Ristretto for myself, if you'll be so kind."  
  
He nodded and fetched two warm cups from the top of the machine, avoiding Smaug's golden eyes as he watched him intently. Uncomfortable with the attention, he scoured his mind for a topic safe enough for small talk. "So, have you been enjoying your stay in Hobbiton so far?"  
  
"Of course, such a charming little village this place is." He smiled widely, revealing all his teeth. "I'm so glad we've been welcomed with open arms here, why, the Mayor himself has invited us to dinner at his house tonight."  
  
"How lovely." Bilbo replied flatly, staring down at the slowly dripping Espresso crema as it pooled in the tiny ceramic cup.   
  
"Yes, it is. I'm very eager to share my plans for this village, only _great_ things ahead for Hobbiton, you'll see."   
  
Bilbo pursed his lips. "Plans?"  
  
Smaug chuckled darkly, the uncanny sound making Bilbo barely repress a shudder. "Now now, Mister Baggins." He tutted, shaking his head mockingly. "We both know where your loyalties truly lie, I can't have you scampering off and whispering all my secrets into handsome Durin ears."  
  
"I don't know what you mean." He replied as strongly as he could, risking looking Smaug in the eye.  
  
He winked at him across the espresso machine, then raised one eyebrow slyly. "Oh no? Then it _wasn't_ your cottage that housed three Durins last night?" His smirk widened. "Dare I ask why I was told that only _two_ bedrooms were used, not three?"  
  
Bilbo blinked and leaned in closer. "What the fuck are you trying to say, mate? Come on, out with it!"  
  
The sound of a chair being dragged across the floor sounded in the background, making Smaug roll his eyes exasperatedly. He turned his head slightly to the side, maintaining eye contact with Bilbo. "Calm down, Azog. Please sit back down, Mister Baggins and I are just having a conversation." The chair scraped along the ground once more, and Smaug sighed languidly. "Like a guard dog, that one. One hint of a harsh tone and he goes into defensive mode, it's rather odious. Just ignore him."  
  
"You brought your hired muscle into _my_ teahouse?" He laughed mirthlessly. "I'm unsure if I should feel complimented or not, that you feel you have to protect yourself in here against little old me."  
  
Smaug rolled his eyes once more. "Don't think of yourself so highly, Mister Baggins, its terribly unattractive. It's not _you_ I'm weary of, its that wretched group of Ereboreans you have decided to surround yourself with." He started inspecting the dirt under his nails, feigning boredom with the conversation. "One can't be to careful around them, they can be so _fickle_."  
  
Bilbo held his tongue and continued working on the coffees, now steaming the frothed milk for the Cappuccino. "They've seemed fine to me."  
  
"Or course they have, they're after something from you." He rotated his hand, now examining his cuticles. "You don't scare the lamb as you bring it up to slaughter, do you now? No, you draw it in to a false sense of security, make it feel safe." He tutted. "I'm disappointed in you dear, you seemed to be so much smarter than this."  
  
His knuckles tightened on the handle of the frothing milk jug. "So I'm a bloody lamb now, am I?"  
  
Smaug's eyes twinkled as they met Bilbo's. "Only if you choose to be."  
  
"Right." Bilbo coughed pointedly as he turned off the steam wand and filled the white ceramic cup to the brim, then sprinkled it with powdered chocolate. "Now if you'll please just excuse me, your drinks are ready, I'll just walk them over."  
  
"Ever the example of good country manners aren't you, Mister Baggins?"   
  
"I can only do my best." He picked the two cups up and started for the table, but was stopped by Smaug blocking his path. Bilbo pursed his lips and looked up into his eyes defiantly. "Yes?"  
  
"I really want to help you, I do. But you're making it far too hard."   
  
Bilbo furrowed his brow. " _Help me?_ "  
  
Taking advantage of Bilbo's full hands, Smaug reached out and placed one slender hand on the shorter man's shoulder, feeling him tense up instantly. "You're only headed towards heartbreak and despair if you remain on the path you're currently on. It's, well, _sad_ to watch."  
  
He took a slow step backwards, out of Smaug's grip. " _I beg your pardon!_ "  
  
Smaug rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "Do keep up, Mister Baggins, when you feign ignorance it's _ever_ so boring."  
  
Bilbo shook his head and strode forward, headed towards the furthest table where Azog was seated. "I'm sorry but I'm tired of playing around, I have work to do." He placed the coffees down and froze as he felt Smaug place his hand in the small of his back.  
  
"But I rather enjoy playing with you, my auburn-haired lamb." Smaug stage whispered in his ear, while Azog smirked up at them, thoroughly entertained by his Boss' games.  
  
"Please remove your hand, sir, I need to get to work." Bilbo asked as flatly as he could, very aware of the dangerous men flanking him.  
  
"He'll remove his hand when he's done talking, lamby." Azog spat, his smirk shifting into a snarl.  
  
Bilbo gulped. "Please, I don't want any trouble, I just need to put the scones into the display case before they get hard."  
  
"Oh, did you hear that Boss?" Azog cooed. "We can't let those soft, moist scones get all hard now, can we?"  
  
"Shut up, Azog. Stop teasing the poor man, can't you see he's distressed?" Smaug removed his hand from the small of Bilbo's back and leant forward, slapping the back of his bodyguard's head with a loud _smack_.  
  
The corner of Bilbo's mouth quirked up into a near-smile, and Azog's eyes narrowed to slits. "You'll pay for that, lamby." He whispered dangerously, just loud enough for only Bilbo to hear.  
  
His eyes widened and Bilbo took a careful step back, Smaug moving out of his way. "W-Well, best get back to work."  
  
Smaug picked up the small glass, sculled the Ristretto back and threw a twenty pound note on the table. "For your trouble." He tapped Azog on the shoulder twice and the man grunted, then stood up and joined him at the door.  
  
"Please, let me get you some change-"  
  
"-Not needed, my dear friend." The cold, toothy smile returned. "Such _excellent_ service should only be rewarded with what is due."   
  
Azog opened the door and headed outside. "Boss?"  
  
He nodded gracefully at Bilbo. "Till our next meeting, Bilbo Baggins. I look forward to it." Smaug grinned slyly and sauntered out of the door, slamming it loudly behind himself.  
  
Bilbo walked shakily back towards the safety of the coffee machine, going over what had just happened in his head.   
  
"I'm fucked."

  
\---

  
Bilbo sipped at his tea in front of the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames. Thankfully, today he had been spared a visit from Smaug or any of his lackeys; a welcome reprieve from the 'excitement' of yesterday. He sunk deeper into the lounge, wishing it would swallow him up.    
  
Surely, Azog was bluffing. Nobody in real life actually said ' _you'll pay for that_ ', did they? It was all so very... Guy Ritchie.    
  
But this wasn't a film, and there was an actual thug walking around Hobbiton.   
  
He shivered. "It's all in your head, Bilbo. You need to stop reading all those damn books, getting those ridiculous ideas in your head."   
  
The antique grandfather clock in the study struck nine, and he groaned raggedly as he stood up and made his way to the staircase. "I just need some sleep. Yes."   
  
Climbing the staircase slowly, he made his way up to his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed to get changed. He pulled his navy cardigan off, threw it so it landed on his couch, then reached back and took off his faded sky blue t-shirt. Bilbo tossed that across the bedroom as well, so it landed in the dirty clothes hamper.    
  
Sighing loudly, he fell backwards onto his bed and felt something scratch against his back. "What the hell?" He reached under himself and pulled out a folded white piece of paper, frowning up at it. "Where did you come from, huh?"   
  
He opened the note, and a smaller piece of paper fell out and floated down onto his chest. Dropping the main note aside, he picked up the smaller note and turned it over.   
  
All the blood drained from his face.    
It was the photo.   
  
It had been cropped, so all you could see was a male hand rested on top of his head, down to his heavy-lidded eyes and the top of his nose.   
  
Making a strained noise at the back of his throat, Bilbo picked up the large white piece of paper and read. It was hand written in scratchy, slanted text, with a few words angrily scratched out.   
  
**Don't** ~~**smile** ~~ **embarrass me again.**   
**I know exactly what to do with this if I have to,** ~~**boy** ~~ **Lamby.**   
**-A**   
  
Bilbo leapt up out of bed and checked all the windows frantically, his heartbeat racing in his ears. All of them were locked. He sat on the bead, clutching at his chest. "He was here! He was in my bedroom, oh _fuck_."    
  
Turning the paper over in his shaking hands, his eyes widened even further. "It's my paper... And my pen." He dropped the note and photo as if they had burned him, and stood up. "I need to get out of here _now_."    
  
Pulling on the closest item of clothing he could find, his old red hoodie, bilbo slipped his phone into his pocket and bounded down the stairs. Not bothering to lock the back door behind himself since his house no longer felt safe, he hurried out into his backyard, torch in hand, headed for the woods.   
  
"I just need some air, a walk will do me good."    
  
He rushed into the safety of the trees and pulled in a pained breath, sinking down to the grass as his legs finally gave up on him.   
  
"God, Bilbo. What have you done?"   
  
\---   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, maybe wrote the second half of this chapter with an ice pack on my right hand because I'm an idiot and burned my hand making rice. RICE.  
> So, sorry if there's any errors,  
> Was balancing frozen peas on my hand in a tea-towel. Classy.
> 
> Also, I don't know about you guys, but I'm finding Smaug to be such a massive creep.  
> I find myself cringing as I write him.  
> Bleugh.
> 
> A little more fun and Bagginshield in this chapter, which was nice to write, since last chapter lacked any real fluff.
> 
> But yeah. Storm clouds ahead!!
> 
> -
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> This chapter was un beta'ed.
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	11. Blue Lips and Farewells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo has a soul-searching moment about what he's going to do next,  
> Thorin pops over for a visit,  
> And Bofur is revealed to have many talents, not just the knack for double entendre's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone for reading this silly story of mine, and for leaving comments and kudos!  
> You're all so lovely!

Bilbo wrapped his arms closer around himself, the night’s chill starting to seep into his very bones. Heavy rain had started an hour previous, forcing him to hide under a towering Elm tree and stop walking aimlessly, but he didn’t mind. His view was spectacular from his dry vantage point under the leafy canopy, the perfect spot to sit and ponder. Comfortably perched on a smooth rock, Bilbo could see the back door of his home and the entirety of Hobbiton laid before him; the warm lights of the Green Dragon twinkling merrily as they were reflected in the water below.

He sighed loudly, leaning against the rough bark behind him. “What the hell am I going to do?"  
  
After two hours of deliberating, he had come up with two ways he could go about this. One… pack his bags and stay with his friends in London for a few months till it all blew over. And two… distance himself from Thorin and his company, lay low, and pray that Smaug and his gang stopped visiting the Teahouse and just left him alone.

Either way, his developing relationship with Thorin would be cut short. And he hated the atmosphere of London, so that wasn’t going too work at all.

When it came down to it, Bilbo was a realist, and knew that there were more important things than having someone warm to cuddle with at night. For example: avoiding having _that photo_ splattered all over magazines and social media.

Bilbo shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Having that photo remain unseen by the public was top priority, Thorin could wait.

He pulled his legs up and hugged them against his chest. “Now, how to tell Thorin and his group politely to fuck off… That’ll be fun.” Bilbo laughed dryly. “It's going to go _brilliantly_ , can’t wait."

Another hour passed, and with it the nervous ball that was forming in his chest. Thorin would understand, _surely_. The man wasn't a complete idiot.

The wind changed direction, blowing rain straight into his face, making Bilbo yelp and splutter, wiping his face with the oversized sleeves of his hoodie. "Ugh, this rain can bugger right off!" He mumbled angrily under his breath, shuffling backwards against the tree trunk so he was out of the rain. "Bloody wet ruddy rain making me fucking cold, damned-"

A voice, carried in the wind, snapping him out of his stupor. "Bilbo?" 

He froze, lowering his voice to a whisper. "You've got to be joking."

The voice came closer, from the woods behind him. "Bilbo are you here? Bilbo?"

Bilbo groaned. "Thorin, brilliant. What fantastic timing."

"Hello? Are you here Bilbo?"

"Yes, yes. Down here, you git." Bilbo shouted in Thorin's direction, mustering up all his strength to not kiss or touch Thorin. He scrunched his eyes shut, listening as the heavy footsteps closed in. _Alright Bilbo, don't look into those stunning blue eyes. Damn. Don't think about those eyes. Too late. Fuck. Ok, just don't think about how good he smells... Double fuck. Oh I'm in for it, this is going to go terribly._

Thorin burst into the clearing, the low light of the moon revealing just how panicked and stressed he was. His short hair was standing up at all angles, with twigs sticking out of the dark brown mess, and his clothes were thoroughly saturated. Despite all of that, the most shocking part of his appearance was his eyes, which were wide open and frenzied, searching under the trees in for the source of Bilbo's voice.

"Where are you? I can't see you..." His voice faltered. "Are you hurt? Should I go and get Dwalin to carry you?"

Bilbo hefted himself up and pulled Thorin by the elbow to join him out of the rain, but as soon as he touched Thorin he found himself wrapped up in a tight embrace and pushed against the tree. He made a small choking sound and patted Thorin on the back a few times, trying to calm him down. "Yes, I'm here, it's all fine stop worrying."

He pulled back, hands resting on Bilbo's shoulders, eyes still wide with worry. "Where the hell have you been, Bilbo? I've been searching for hours!"

"What!" Bilbo cleared his throat, and stared at the ground. "That's ridiculous, you shouldn't be outside in the rain, you'll catch a cold."

"Bofur saw you sprint out of the house, but by the time he came to find me you were long gone..." Thorin lowered his voice, and it took on a soothing tone, as if he were trying to calm a wild animal. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. But are you alright?"

Bilbo laughed dryly. "Not really."

"Are you hurt?" His hands clenched slightly on Bilbo's shoulders, his fretting painfully evident and making Bilbo feel like the worst person in the world. Here was Thorin Durin, worried sick over him, and all he could do was think about himself and how he could try to reveal as little emotion as possible, and start distancing himself from the man.

God, he hated himself.

He put on the most genuine smile he could muster. "I'm right as rain."

Thorin laughed warmly, the sound catching him off guard. " _Right as rain_... Of course you scare the death out of me and then make a pun." He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Bilbo's, lowering his voice to an intimate whisper. "You're sure you're not hurt?"

Bilbo swallowed dryly. "Positively."

"If you say so." Thorin reached up one hand and stroked the shorter man's cheek with his thumb, making Bilbo's stomach do an excited flip, much to his irritation. "You had me so worried... Bofur said you left your back door wide open; that out of nowhere you just up and ran outside, then disappeared."

"Just... Needed some fresh air, is all." He closed his eyes, leaning into Thorin's hand. "You shouldn't have come after me, if you get sick I'll feel terrible."

Thorin shook his head, forehead still pressed against Bilbo's, and lifted his other hand to cup the shorter man's face as well. "I don't care, I needed to know you were alright."

The pit of his stomach fell. "I'm fine, you prat. How many times do I have to say it to get it through that thick skull of yours?"

"I don't care about a little bit of rain." Thorin leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, which Bilbo responded to happily, then instantly regretted. So much for distancing himself. 

Bilbo leaned his head back against the tree trunk and looked up into Thorin's eyes. "What are you doing here, Thorin?"

He frowned. "I thought it was pretty clear... I was coming to find you."

"I mean, why not just send Dwalin to look for me? You didn't need to make such a fuss. I'm just your... Neighbour."

Thorin's frown cracked into a soft smile. "I'm not sure how things go here in Hobbiton, but back where I'm from, neighbours don't kiss and do... Other things along those lines."

Bilbo swatted his shoulder, rolling his eyes. "You know what I mean, stop making fun."

"Are you asking me to put a name to whatever this is between us?" His deep voice rumbled, sending pleasant shivers down Bilbo's spine. "Because... I would gladly do so if you wished, I just assumed you wanted to take things slow after all the mess with James."

Well, that was a way to snap Bilbo out of it.

He froze, the reason for why he was outside in the first place coming right back to him. "Right. That." Bilbo coughed awkwardly, his gaze dropping to his feet. "Good idea, let's just wait a while, shall we?"

Picking up on the way Bilbo's voice had fallen, Thorin put a hand under the shorter man's chin and lifted it gently, forcing him to look him in the eye. "We can wait however long you need, Bilbo. I'm not in any rush."

Bilbo sighed. "Stop being so damned perfect and making me feel awful."

"It's not my intention, trust me." He smirked. "And as much as I am enjoying pressing you up against a tree, we should probably go back inside and get warm." Thorin stepped backwards out into the rain and offered Bilbo his hand, smiling warmly.

"Fuck, this is going to be far harder than I thought it was going to be." He whispered to himself, then put on a forced smile and walked forward, taking his hand. "Come on, you drowned rat. Let's get you home."

"Smartest thing you've said all night."

 

\---

 

Bag End came in closer and closer, each step nearer making his pulse quicken. He wasn't ready to face his empty cottage alone, yet he had to restrain himself from inviting Thorin over... Fantastic. He bit his lip worriedly, furrowing his brow. Perhaps Bell had a bed free he could stay in for the night. Or a couch even, that would do fine.

Thorin tugged on his hand, stirring him out of his musings. He looked up, greeted by an amused smile. "Everything alright? You've been awfully quiet the past few minutes."

He nodded twice. "Just thinking."

"Right." 

They reached the kitchen door, which had been slammed shut by the wind; and Thorin shifted awkwardly from side to side, obviously deliberating about something. 

Before he could ask to come inside, Bilbo spoke up. "Well, night Thorin. Get out of those wet clothes quick, yeah?"

His face fell. "Of course, sure." 

"Good. Well. I'm off." Bilbo reached up on his tippy toes and kissed Thorin on the cheek, took one last look at him, then popped inside. 

He leant against the kitchen door and took in a ragged breath, eyes closed. "You can do this, Bilbo. He's not here anymore, he just left the note and went." 

Peeling one eye open, he took in the dark cottage. The upstairs hallway light was on, but the entire lower floor was pitch black and silent. A nervous flutter started again in the base of his stomach. "Right. Scratch that. You can't do this."

Bilbo whirled around and moved to reach the door handle, but as he went to pull it towards himself it was pushed open from the other side. Releasing a high pitched scream, Bilbo took a step backwards and covered his face in self defence, his eyes slamming shut.

"Just do it! Get it over and done with, won't you!"

Cold arms enclosed him and he let out another shriek, then started beating against them with clenched fists. "Bilbo! Hey! Calm down, it's just me!"

He stilled, breathing heavily. "T-Thorin?" Bilbo slowly opened his eyes and looked up, taking in Thorin's concerned expression, which was even more pained than earlier that night. 

"Bilbo... Why did you react that way when I opened the door?" He asked as softly as he could, fully aware that Bilbo was in shock.

Closing his eyes once more, he shook his head and leant closer into Thorin's arms. "Don't want to talk about it." Bilbo responded quietly, muffled in the taller man's shoulder.

"I understand that, which is fine and I completely respect your decision... But are you in danger? You acted like I was about to hurt you."

He shook his head again. "Later."

Thorin pulled Bilbo in even closer, and bent his head so his lips were against the shorter man's ear. "I'll protect you, you're safe here."

"Stay."

"Okay, I'll stay."  He shuffled them a few steps closer inside, then closed the door behind them and turned on the light. 

Bilbo blinked till his eyes adjusted, took a step back so he was out of Thorin's arms, then gasped loudly as he took in the sight before him. Thorin had started shivering and all the colour had drained from his face, his lips turning blue. 

"Thorin! You're freezing! Why didn't you say anything!?"

He smiled sheepishly. "You were far more important."

"Stop being stupid." He chided and slapped Thorin's arm, glaring up at him. "Upstairs. Now. We've got to get you warm before you freeze to death."

Thorin pulled his arms around himself and grinned, thoroughly amused at how quickly Bilbo had switched to 'Mother Hen Mode'. "Lead the way."

His fear forgotten for the moment, Bilbo grabbed Thorin's hand roughly and pulled him in tow, bounding loudly up the hallway to the stairs. "Can you feel your toes?"

"Uh... I think so?"

" _You think so._ How helpful." He grumbled loudly, making Thorin's grin widen.

Bilbo pulled Thorin into his room and left him to stand by the door, then turned to look at his bed. The letter and photo were still there. Taking in a fortifying breath, Bilbo snatched up the photo, shoved it in the letter and folded it up, putting it in his bedside drawer without looking at it. Thorin was in danger of getting pneumonia, and he knew if he looked down at the photo or written letter, he would be useless.

His anxiety could wait, there were more important tasks at hand and Thorin needed him.

"Come on, let's get you into the shower." He gestured for Thorin to join him by the ensuite door, and turned the lights on.

Thorin shuffled slowly and stumbled, causing Bilbo to leap forward and steady him. "I'm fine, just a little stiff."

"You're not fine, shut up." He steered them both into the bathroom and sat Thorin down on the edge of the large white bath that filled the left side of the tiled room. "Now, how bad are your hands? Do you need any help, or do you want me to run the shower and leave?"

"Should be fine." Thorin reached up and tried to zip down his hoodie but failed miserably, his numb fingers slipping and unable to grasp onto the small metal rectangle.

Bilbo swatted his hand away, rolling his eyes. "Just ask for help, you tit." He walked backwards and leaned into the shower, turning on the spray, eager to warm up the room and get some hot steam circulating.

"Thankyou." Thorin mumbled, barely audible over the noise of the shower.

"It's fine, I've done this before; one of Belle's brothers fell in the water out front the Green Dragon in winter, awful business. But as soon as we got him in a warm shower and rugged up with a hot chocolate, he was fine in no time." He finished testing the water temperature and walked back to Thorin, hands on his hips. "We need to get you out of those cold clothes right now, sorry."

"I'm not shy, go ahead."

He nodded and reached forward, unzipping the black hoodie, which was dark and heavily with the rainwater. Thorin's arms and upper body were extremely rigid, so he had to press his chest to Thorin's and pull the hoodie off both his arms before he could throw it in the bath behind. He then removed Thorin's now-transparent white t-shirt and blushed. Oh yes, that was a very nice chest. A very nice, muscly chest indeed.

Bilbo shook his head, snapping himself out of it. This wasn't the time or the place, and they didn't have much time before the cold did some serious damage.

"I'm sorry but you're going to have to help me with the jeans, I can't get them off when you're sitting down."

"You're going to have to help me up then."

"Come on, we can do this." He held Thorin's sides and helped him stand up, steadying him as he swayed slightly once upright. "Here, put your hands on my shoulders while I deal with these."

Thorin nodded in response and did as he was told, his shivering getting increasingly worse. Bilbo bit his lip worriedly as he nodded up at him, then reached down and unzipped his dark navy jeans and tugged them down to his knees. 

"Alright, you can sit back down now." Bilbo stood upright and put his hands under Thorin's armpits, lowering the man down onto the side of the bath again. "Okay. Nearly there."

The steam of the shower had started filling the room, raising its temperature slightly, but Thorin's shiver was still worsening. Bilbo looked up at him concernedly as he knelt at Thorin's feet and started unlacing his trainers; Thorin had become worryingly quiet, choosing to communicate through nods and grunts, and it was setting off alarm bells in his head.

He poked Thorin's foot as soon as it was free of the shoe, and released a relieved sigh as Thorin grunted when he pinched his big toe. 

"Stop. Feels weird."

"You should be happy you've got any feeling, you git. Stop whining, I'm doing the other one now." Bilbo chided as he unlaced the other shoe and tested the other foot, getting the same reaction. "Good, this just means you're freezing, and don't have serious hypothermia. Great news."

Bilbo peeled of Thorin's soaked socks and threw them into the bath, then tossed in the drowned trainers as well. He then reached up and started shimmying the wet jeans down Thorin's shins, pulled them off, and threw them into the bath to join the rest of his saturated wardrobe. 

He stood up slowly, very aware that the floor was a slippery mess; the last thing they needed was a concussion to add to the injuries in that bathroom. "Right. Can you stand, or do you need my help getting you into the shower?"

"Help, please." Thorin replied sheepishly, hands folded over his wet black pants.

"Sure." He smiled down at Thorin, then turned to check the shower temperature; he needed to start lukewarm and slowly raise it or he'd hurt Thorin, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

Once happy with the shower, he turned back to Thorin, then looked down at himself. "Is it, uh, ok if I strip down too? I don't exactly want to stand in a shower in this." He gestured at his thick red hoodie.

Thorin smirked up at him. "Am I finally getting my striptease?"

He blurted out a loud burst of laughter, covering his mouth. "Your awful sense of humour has returned, good. That's a good sign."

"Stop talking, start undressing. It's very cold sitting in nothing but my pants on your porcelain bath."

"Of course, sorry." He pulled his hoodie off in one fluid movement, then threw it into the corner of his room and looked down at his bare chest. "Oh that's right. No shirt."

Thorin chuckled. "Less talking, more stripping."

Bilbo tutted good naturedly, rolling his eyes. "Yes quiet down, I'm getting there." He unzipped his fly and pulled his trousers down, then toed them off with his shoes in one go and slid the bundle across the room. "Well come on then, let's get you warm."

He padded over and helped Thorin stand up, pulling one of his toned arms around his shoulders to help him walk across the wet tiles. They made their way to the shower slowly, and paused at the glass door while he reached forward and tested the water once more, just to be sure.

"If it's too hot tell me, yeah?"

"I'm sure you'll work it out if I start howling in pain." He replied sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"Hilarious." Bilbo replied as they shuffled into the shower together, Thorin's arm still over his shoulders. 

Once they hit the warm stream of water, Thorin let out a loud and rather obscene moan, tilting his face up into the spray and closing his eyes. Bilbo chuckled softly at his side, wrapping his other arm around Thorin's middle to steady him. 

They stood there like that for a while in complete silence, Bilbo leaning forward and slowly turning up the hot tap every few minutes when he felt Thorin was ready. 

After what felt like thirty minutes passed, Bilbo cleared his throat and looked up at Thorin, all colour returned to his bearded face. "Is it alright if we sit? You're just a tad heavy, and my shoulders are starting to hurt."

He opened his eyes and looked down at him, nodding. "I'll need some help though, still stiff."

"Sure, just let me angle the showerhead so you don't get hit in the face." He reached forward and moved it downwards, then wrapped his arms around Thorin's middle once more. "Slowly, remember, it's wet."

Thorin rolled his eyes. "You sure about that? Being a shower and all?"

"Hey don't be a prat and make me leave you in here to get yourself out." Bilbo chided, both of them knowing it was a throughly empty threat.

"Fine." 

Bilbo moved them so they were leaning against the wall, then slowly started sliding downwards, one arm hanging down, ready to brace himself on. Once sitting down, they both sighed with relief, leaning their heads against the wall. The water was at the perfect angle, hitting them in their chests so their whole bodies were warm, but not spraying in their faces so they could talk.

Thorin chuckled to himself, making Bilbo peer up at him curiously. "What is it?"

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "To be honest, when I imagined the first time we shared a shower, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Thorin!" Bilbo slapped him on the arm that was still draped over his shoulder.

"It isn't, though." He sighed, enjoying the warm water against his chest. "For starters, there is far too much clothing in this shower."

"Stop!" He laughed, slapping him again. "This isn't the time! We need to focus on getting you warm."

"Well, I can think of one very straightforward way to do that." 

Bilbo rolled his eyes and crawled over to the glass bottle of soap that was on the opposite end of the shower, then turned around and sat on his haunches, out of the warm spray. He flicked up the cap with his thumb and poured some in his hand, closed it then threw it onto Thorin's lap. "Come on, while we're here we may as well get clean."

"Subtle change of the topic there, nicely done." He smirked, then poured some of the vanilla scented liquid into his hand, put the bottle beside himself, and started soaping up his toned torso. 

Currently washing his face and missing the spectacular show, Bilbo rinsed the soap off his face and swallowed dryly, taking in the scene unfolding before him. Very aware of his audience, Thorin was looking down at his muscular, tanned chest and was rubbing the soap all over himself, paying extra attention to his rather fantastic abs and pectoral muscles. He then leant forward and dunked his head under the water and leant back, causally moving his hair out of his eyes with a raised arm.

He met Bilbo's eyes and grinned. "Enjoying the view?"

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, playing unimpressed. "You know how gorgeous you look, don't go and be a prat about it."

Thorin laughed, shaking his head. "Well, you certainly know how to keep me humble."

"Shut up." 

 

\---

 

Thorin perched on the end of Bilbo's bed just in a towel, while his host fussed about in his walk-in closet, also in just a towel, trying to find something for his ridiculously tall guest to wear. "I'm happy to just sleep in my pants, Bilbo. They're essentially dry now, I had a go at them with the hair dryer earlier."

Bilbo popped his head out of the small room and shot him a warning look. "You're going to rug up and you're going to like it." He went back to his search, ignoring Thorin's chuckle behind him. "That man is far too comfortable walking around in just a towel, Christ." Bilbo mumbled under his breath, holding up a navy hoodie to his chest, seeing if it was large enough.

"Heard that."

"Shut it!" He walked back out to the bedroom, a few options hung over his shoulder. "So, I think something will fit you from my basketball phase a few years back, everything I bought was extra baggy."

Thorin raised an eyebrow amusedly. "Basketball phase?"

"I was trying to find a new sport I enjoyed, calm down." He threw the pile of clothes on Thorin's head, enjoying the muffled noise of irritation the tall man made. "Now, I'm going to get changed in here, you change there. Knock when you're done."

He smirked, leaning back on his elbows. "I don't mind you seeing me, you know."

"That's all well and fine, but I'm not exactly as..." He gestured at Thorin's firm chest and shoulders. "... well, just nothing like that. So _I mind_ , thank you very much." Bilbo nodded with a sense of finality, and retreated back into the walk-in.

"I think you have a spectacular body, actually." Thorin said softly, the sound of rustling fabric in the background. 

"...Thanks."

"It's true. You have lovely arms and some of the softest skin I've ever touched."

Bilbo blushed, thankful Thorin couldn't see how flustered his words were making him. "Alright, I get it, thanks for the input."

He chuckled, his voice lowering to an utterly sinful rasp "It's true, I could kiss and lick that skin for hours and hours."

" _God_." Bilbo whispered, closing his eyes and leaning against the closed door, imagining in vivid detail what Thorin was describing.

"I would take my time, starting with lots of small kisses at the top of those lovely ears, then work my way down your neck and maybe even use my teeth a little, just to hear the sounds you'd make."

" _Fuck_." Bilbo choked out and looked down at his towel, noticing how a certain part of himself was starting to like the sounds of what Thorin was offering. He opened his eyes and shook his head, remembering himself. 

No, as much as he wanted this, he couldn't. It wouldn't be fair on Thorin to go out there and have a tumble in his bed, then stop replying to his texts the next day as he started to distance himself. He was better than that, and it was time to get his sex drive in check and do the right thing.

Bilbo cleared his throat loudly. "Not that I don't enjoy this conversation we're having, but it's a bit hard putting on pants when you're talking like that."

"Well don't bother with them, then." He replied darkly.

"Christ." He whispered under his breath, then slapped his face a few times to get his head straight. "You nearly froze today, Thorin. I'm not feeling up to much, it's been a long one and I'm pretty tired."

"Shit, of course. I'm sorry, I'll stop."

He sighed, wishing he could go out there and ravish the ridiculously attractive man sitting on his bed. "You're fine, really, and I do like everything you're saying... I'm just bloody exhausted."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Bilbo. Just a 'no' would suffice." He coughed awkwardly. "But maybe stay in there another minute while I calm down a tad."

Bilbo laughed warmly, the sound making Thorin smile from where he was sitting on the bed. "Sure, I need to calm down a little as well."

"I'll get changed, you come out when you're ready."

"Sure, be out in a bit."

 

\---

 

Bilbo emerged from the walk-in sheepishly, dressed in an oversized grey hoodie and navy and cream striped pyjama bottoms. Thorin was tucked into his usual side of the bed, reading Bilbo's battered copy of Keats' poetical works. He smiled fondly at the sight, enjoying how comfortable Thorin looked in his bed, and how much he seemed to belong there.

He shook his head for what felt like the hundredth time that night. No, he was getting ahead of himself again. Thorin was just staying the night so he felt safe, then tomorrow he'd start his 'Back Away from Thorin' plan and stay out of trouble. Yes. He could do this.

Thorin looked up from the book and smiled warmly at him, then closed the book and placed it on his lap. "You look nice and cosy."

"Oh, stop." He replied self deprecatingly, waving away the comment. 

"Come on, it's cold out. Jump in." He opened the bed on Bilbo's side and patted the bed invitingly. 

Ignoring how his heart fluttered happily at the domesticity of Thorin asking him to bed like it was just any usual Wednesday night; Bilbo nodded, padded over to the bed and slid between the covers. He sighed happily, smiling contentedly as he squished himself backwards into the plush pillows, rocking slightly from side to side.

"You always do that little wiggle when you get into bed, it's adorable."

He frowned up at him. "I'm not adorable."

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Yes, you are. And there's nothing wrong with it." He put his book on the bedside table and laid down, turning on his side to face Bilbo. "You do this little smile and then wiggle back into the pillows, which makes the back of your hair stand up in the mornings."

"My hair does not stand up! It has... Volume."

"Yes well, you're not the one who sees the back of your head in the morning, darling." Thorin replied casually, as he shuffled over on the bed and pulled Bilbo in closer, wrapping an arm around his soft middle.

He hid his face in Thorin's neck, going over what had just happened in his head. Thorin had called him darling... And he liked it, he  _really_ liked it. Oh dear, he was definitely in trouble. 

"...I'm still not adorable."

"Yes you are, now shut up and go to sleep."

 

\---

 

Bilbo rolled over in bed, stretching and yawning loudly in the morning sun.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

He looked up and was greeted by Thorin's wide smile, and smiled softly in return. "Morning." Bilbo yawned again, and curled into a ball on his side. "What you reading?"

Thorin turned the book so Bilbo could read the cover. "Keats again."

"What a lovely morning read." 

"Not nearly as lovely as you." Thorin closed the book and placed it on the small table, then slid down and wrapped his arms around the sleepy Hobbit.

Bilbo ignored the little voice that was yelling for him to stop at the back of his head, and melted into Thorin's embrace. "Why, aren't you affectionate this morning."

Thorin landed two quick pecks on his lips, then rearranged them so he was on his back and Bilbo was half on top of him, resting against his chest. "I've been waiting for you to wake up."

"So you learnt your lesson, good." He mumbled lazily, the sound muffled by Thorin's chest.

He chuckled. "It was a pretty rude lesson, I won't be forgetting it anytime soon." 

"Just means I won't have to tell you twice, it served its purpose." 

"So demanding." Thorin chided in jest, a smirk blossoming on his face.

Bilbo slapped Thorin's side. "Hey, careful now. My knee is strategically located near something that I could 'mistakingly' lean on. I mean, all these blankets and the like, there's no telling where anything is under here."

"I definitely know where this is-" Thorin reached down and pinched Bilbo's arse, making him release a small yelp and roll to Thorin's other side. 

"Hey! No pinching!" Bilbo retorted, hitting Thorin in the upper arm.

He raised both his hands in surrender, laughing softly. "Alright, alright. No pinching, got it."

The Hobbit eyed him untrustfully and lowered himself back down, sprawling over Thorin's right side. "One more wrong move and I'm kicking you out of the bed."

"Deal." He nodded and wrapped both arms around Bilbo once more, sneaking one hand up the back of his hoodie to stroke at the smooth, warm skin. Bilbo sighed contentedly and Thorin felt the Hobbit's whole body go lax on top of him, his head rested in the nook of the taller man's shoulder.

They lay like that for a while, exchanging small talk now and then; enjoying basking in each other's company in the large, warm bed.

It was all going swimmingly, untill Thorin felt Bilbo's body stiffen, so knew something was up. The Hobbit had been slowly getting quieter and quieter, the silence transforming from comfortable to tense. 

He cleared his throat. "Something you want to say, Bilbo?"

Bilbo's head shot up, and he propped himself up with one arm so he could make eye contact with Thorin. "How did you know?"

"I felt you tense up, you're pretty obvious."

"Oh... Right." He slumped back on top of Thorin, tapping his fingers nervously against the taller man's clavicle. "I was wondering if you could give me Nori's number?"

"Why would you want that?"

"I think there are some birds that keep eating my prize tomatoes, so I'm going to ask Nori to set up a camera with a sensor so I can catch the buggers in the act." Bilbo lied quietly, hoping his lie was so stupid Thorin would believe it.

His chest rumbled with laugher, shaking Bilbo. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, please tell me you're lying."

_Damn, let's try again._ "Nope, I've won the Hobbiton prize for best tomatoes three years running, I have a reputation to uphold."

"You Hobbits are ridiculous with your tomatoes and your ponies, but I like it. Things are... simple here."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. _Yes, until you and your lot came here, you gorgeous menace_. "I know, shut up." He cleared his throat. "So, that's a yes then?"

"I'll text you his number when I get to my phone, I left it at the cottage last night. Lucky I did too, if I had it on me last night it would have been ruined."

He hummed in agreement. "Thanks, Thorin. I appreciate it."

The silence returned.

"...Bilbo?"

"Yes?"

Thorin sat up against the headboard, so Bilbo moved so he was seated cross-legged by his side, peering up at him curiously. "Do you want to talk about what happened last night and why you were in the woods yet? Or is it still too soon?"

His gaze fell. "It's still pretty fresh, maybe wait just a tad longer."

"Of course, sorry."

Bilbo reached out, laying a gentle hand on Thorin's knee. "No it's fine, really. I just need a little time to think it over."

"As long as you're sure?"

"I'm sure." 

Thorin leaned forward and kissed him softly, cupping his jaw with one hand. "You'll tell me if there's anything I can do?"

The bottom of his stomach dropped. "Of course, Thorin."

Bilbo's phone rang loudly on the bedside table furthest away from them, snapping them out of their little private moment. He smiled apologetically at Thorin and picked up his phone, frowning when he saw it was Balin calling. 

"Uh, I think this is for you, you should take it." He handed the phone over and leant back against the pillows, pulling a book of his bedside table to wait out the call with.

"Hello Thorin speaking. Yeah, I stayed here last night." He smiled down at Bilbo. "Yes, I found him, he's fine. Yes. Yes." Thorin frowned. "Are you absolutely sure? Right now?" 

Thorin paused for a minute or two, listening to all the details Balin was sharing over the phone. "If you're sure. Alright. I'll be there in ten." He ended the call and put the phone on Bilbo's lap, his turn to smile apologetically.

"You have to go?"

"Yeah, sorry. My flight has been brought forward... we have to pack now, I'm leaving in an hour."

"That's so soon." Bilbo put the book down on his lap, and looked up at him sadly. "Well it was nice having you over, thanks for staying."

Thorin crawled over to Bilbo's side of the bed and straddled his hips, his knees resting at the Hobbit's sides. "Don't I get a kiss goodbye?"

He tutted cheekily, rolling his eyes. "If I _have_ to, I suppose I can afford you one kiss." 

"Why, how _generous_ of you, Mister Baggins." Thorin displayed his most predatory smirk, then lowered himself on top of Bilbo and kissed him thoroughly and passionately, large hands framing his soft face, enjoying all the small sighs and moans the Hobbit made. 

Bilbo reached up and ran his fingers through Thorin's hair, putting the touch to memory. As far as Bilbo was concerned, this was probably going to be their last kiss for either an indefinite or a very long amount of time; so every aspect of the kiss, down to the rough feel of Thorin's beard agains his soft chin, Bilbo catalogued and stored away in the back of his mind.  
  
Sighing raggedly, Bilbo leaned back and broke the kiss, his fingertips still running through Thorin's dark hair. "Fly safe."

"I always do." He leant down and left one last quick kiss on Bilbo's lips, then groaned and pulled himself out of bed. "I'll get Bofur to drop these clothes by later, once they're clean."

"Sure."

Thorin cleared his throat. "Uh, don't worry about walking me out or anything, I can see you're pretty comfy there. I'll let myself out."

"I don't mind..."

"It's fine, you stay right where you are." He opened the door to the hallway, then turned and offered Bilbo a small smile. "I'll be back soon, don't worry."

Bilbo crossed his arms. "Don't do anything stupid, remember?"

"I remember." He shook his head, smiling fondly. "Bye, Bilbo."

"Bye."

 

\---

 

Breathing loudly, Bilbo held the left side of his ribs and leant forward, trying to get his  wheezing under control. "Why the hell did I think a run was a good idea, Christ."

He dragged his heavy feet over to a close riverstone fence, then near-collapsed onto it as he sat down. "The worst idea, I'm an absolute idiot." 

Bilbo leaned back and squinted up at the night sky, brushing his sweat soaked curls out of his face. Thankfully a cool breeze had started rustling through the trees, which helped him settle into a more respectable state.

Chuckling rang out from somewhere behind him, making Bilbo turn around and peer curiously into the hedges behind him. 

"Good evening?"

"Aye Bilbo, that it is." Bofur emerged from behind, resting his elbows on the stone fence to Bilbo's left. "Although a night this lovely is better shared, don't you think?"

He hummed in agreement, turning back around to face the view of Hobbiton before him. "Bit nippy, but it's nice enough... Even though the company leaves much to be desired."

Bofur elbowed him in the side cheekily, winking up at him. "Ungrateful sod, don't make me leave you to your moping."

Bilbo rolled his eyes. "Not you too, for heaven's sake. Balin visited me this morning with scones, seeing if I was fine... Thorin's only been gone for two days, I'm quite alright!"

"Sure you are lad, sure you are." He patted Bilbo on the shoulder 

He squinted his eyes at him challengingly "I _am_ fine. Really." 

"If you say so." Bofur shook his head. "So what's got you out running tonight, then?"

Bilbo cleared his throat awkwardly. "Just after some lovely fresh air, of course."

"Sure, lad. T _he fresh air_." He hopped over the fence and crossed his arms, nudging Bilbo companionably as he joined him on the fence. "You look like a man who's gone for a run to get something off his mind, tell me if I'm wrong."

"Fine, yes. There's something on my mind, but it's nothing to do with Thorin... Mostly."

Bofur leapt off the fence and turned to face him, gesturing for Bilbo to join him. "Come on then, let's go for a dawdle and sort it out, no use brooding up here."

He nodded and slipped off the stone fence. "How'd you find me, anyways? You don't seem the type to be going for a nature walk."

"Hiding from Bombur, I ate the last of his fancy chocolate without telling him. You just happened to stumble in my hiding spot, lucky you."

Bilbo chuckled. "Lucky me, indeed."

They headed down the hill towards the edge of Hobbiton, their path lit by the odd streetlight and the light of the moon. A few Hobbits eyed the strange couple in interest, but just shook their heads and continued walking.

"So, lad. Got a story for me?"

"You make it sound sound so exciting, when it really isn't." Bilbo sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.

Bofur poked him in the ribs. "Oh come on, I haven't had a good gossip in a while, Balin and that lot are so boring."

He kicked a small rock absentmindedly, watching where it fell. "Just... I need to start backing away from Thorin for a little while, it's all getting a bit... Uh. Intense."

The smile Bofur shot Bilbo was one of the most mischievous looks he had ever been on the receiving end of. "Hey! Not like that, mind out of the gutter thank you!"

"Hey, trust me, of all the people you'll ever meet I am the _last_ person to judge." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Really, lad. The things I've gotten up to." Bofur whistled loudly, grinning over at him.

Bilbo chuckled, shaking his head. "You'll have to give me some tips later." He coughed awkwardly. "I mean. Not that I'm expecting things to... progress further with Thorin or anything, I just mean... _Shit_."

Bofur laughed raucously, slapping Bilbo on the back. "Aye, lad. I'll teach you things so wicked Thorin won't be able to walk straight for a _month_."

"Hey!" Bilbo hit him on the shoulder, blushing bright red. 

He winked at Bilbo playfully. "It's none of my business what you two adults get up to, but if you ever _did_ want any advice, you come straight to me. Actually, wait. Take one of these... If I can just find the damn things-" Bofur started patting down his pockets, looking for his wallet. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the worn leather square, hollering triumphantly. "Here! One of these for you." 

A small black business card was placed in Bilbos hand, which he turned over and squinted at in the low light. "Bofur Cassanova, Sex Blogger extraordinaire." He looked up at Bofur in disbelief. " _Cassanova?_ Really?"

Bofur grinned proudly. "Aye, _Cassanova_. I wanted something alluring yet direct, the lads seemed to enjoy it."

"It's fucking ridiculous!" He laughed heartily, shaking his head. " _Cassanova_. Good Lord."

"There's a URL on the other side, have a look when you have a moment. Looking for tips, tricks or whatever have you, it's all on there." His eyes twinkled. "I've been looking to do some _research_ while I'm here, actually... know anyone available?" Bofur asked cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bilbo pocketed the business card, laughing quietly. "Ah, depends what you're after?"

"I'm not fussed as long as we get on well, bits are bits to me. One of the many joys of Bisexuality."

"You're incorrigible." Bilbo chucked, shaking his head.

Bofur winked. "You have absolutely no idea."

"Just try down at the Green Dragon on a weekend night, that's where us locals go to pull." He shrugged. "Well, most of us... If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you get into Blogging, anyway? You don't really seem the type."

"Well, I used to be head miner back at Erebor, so when I lost that I turned to the thing I was next best at... Shagging." Bofur chuckled, grinning down at him. "So I bought a laptop and got to it, next thing I know I'm one of the top Bloggers in the UK, if you can believe it."

Bilbo stopped walking and stared at him dumbfoundedly. "What!"

"Rude, don't act so surprised. Honestly, I should be offended." He retorted with mock irritation. "But yes, I get invited to Conferences and Expos all the time, it's quite fun. They pay me to talk about what I love, it's fantastic."

"Huh. Would you fancy that." Bilbo started walking again, catching up to Bofur who was three steps ahead of him.

"It's a pretty sweet deal, I won't lie to you." He cleared this throat. "So... If it's not the sex, why you backing off old Thorin, then?"

He shrugged noncommittedly. "It's all just a bit... fast."

Bofur raised an eyebrow sceptically. "He's a pretty switched on bloke, you know if you asked him to slow down he would."

"I know, he's lovely, but it's not just him, is it? It's the whole..." He flailed his hands, trying to find the right words. "...package deal. It's not just Thorin, it's also his nephews and the campaign team and the whole business with Smaug." Bilbo scrubbed his face tiredly. "Sorry, I shouldn't be going on about it, you yourself are one of his mates."

"Don't mind me, lad. I know what you mean." 

Bilbo sighed loudly, staring up at the twinkling stars above. "There's just too much at risk."

"What do you mean by that, lad? Are you in some sort of trouble?" Bofur asked quietly, the joking tone gone from his voice.

He stiffened. "Uh. What I meant was... That... Fuck." Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath.

Bofur halted their walking and pulled him aside, batting away his hand so he could see into Bilbo's eyes. "Bilbo, have you been threatened?"

Avoiding his keen eyes, he stared down at Bofur's shoulder. "...no."

"Bullshit." He shook Bilbo gently, trying to get the shorter man to look him in the eye. "I'll say it again, have you been threatened, lad?"

"No, it's just..." He breathed out raggedly and met Bofur's eye, his resolution in place. "Smaug keeps visiting me at the Teahouse and asking about Thorin, it's starting to put me off. He's so... Creepy." 

Bilbo kicked himself mentally, lying to Bofur was the last thing he wanted to do... but there was no way in hell he was going to tell him about Azog and the photo, he'd definitely go to Thorin. He gulped dryly at the thought, not caring if Bofur picked up on it. No, he could definitely not tell Bofur, there was no knowing what Thorin would do once he found out, something rash, probably.

"I've heard stories about what that Smaug can do with his little games, you best stay clear of him if you know what's good for you." Bofur warned darkly, the most serious Bilbo had ever seen him.

He rolled his eyes. "I can't exactly avoid him when he's a customer at my own fucking Teahouse, can I!"

Bofur tapped his chin pensively. "I'm not sure if it's my place, but you should probably talk to Balin about it when he gets back."

"Why would I talk to him about Smaug?" 

"He knows things even Thorin doesn't, lad. Especially when it comes to that worm."

Bilbo sighed exasperatedly. "That still doesn't answer my damn question, your lot really don't like taking about that fucker, do you! I think I've lost count of how many times I've been told I should _ask Thorin_ or _ask Balin_ , Christ."

He shrugged. "Nothing I can do about it lad, sorry."

"Wait. How do you know things that Thorin doesn't?" He pointed at him accusingly. "I mean, isn't he sort of your boss or some shit."

"Not my boss, just my mate." He cleared his throat. "And Balin decided there was one thing Thorin didn't need to know, I just happened to be the person closest to help clean up at the time."

"More riddles, brilliant." He threw his hands in the air dramatically. "Am I ever going to get a blasted answer to anything I ever ask?"

"Thorin found his younger brother on his _knees_ in front of that that bastard, sucking him off right in front of him. Smaug _meant_ for Thorin to see it." Bofur raised his arms theatrically, mimicking Bilbo's dramatics of a moment ago. "There! Are you happy? Now you know what that fucker can get people to do, he works his way into your head and makes you do whatever he likes, that's his game." He lowered his arms, and rubbed his face tiredly. "Just trust me, alright? The man's bad news. And don't even _think_ of mentioning that piece of information about Frerin to Thorin or I'm dead, nobody is supposed to know."

Bilbo swallowed dryly, thoroughly overwhelmed by the new influx of information. "And if Smaug had, say, any form of leverage over you?"

"That bastard would use it each and every way he could to make you do what he wanted, then he'd break you."

" _Fuck_."

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Thorin, just as you start to open up, Bilbo starts locking it down...  
> Whoops.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Also, this chapter is un-beta'ed, so there may be errors.
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	12. 'Parent-Trapped'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo goes for a leisurely Sunday stroll,  
> Fili and Kili come up with a plan,  
> And Thorin and Bilbo have a quiet picnic under the stars. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger/content warning: Panic attack, fainting and having to be rushed to hospital.  
> ...Fluff super soon, I swear.

Bilbo was many things, and most of all, he was a creature of habit. Never mind that he hadn't had much sleep the night previous, his conversation with Bofur repeating on loop at the forefront of his mind; Bilbo had woken up at ten, made himself a hearty breakfast, and was off for his usual Sunday midday stroll.  
  
It's was a gorgeous early afternoon in Hobbiton, the sun merrily shining down upon thriving garden beds and wildflowers, small brightly coloured birds chirping and flitting about amongst their technicolor homes. It was all rather idyllic, but Bilbo couldn't find himself able to fully relax; his shoulders overly stiff and walking pace rather hurried, unlike the usual lazy milling about he would do every weekend.  
  
He groaned and rubbed his face tiredly. No, this wouldn't do at all.  
  
Reaching into his right pocket, Bilbo fished out his iPhone and headphones, hoping some music would do the trick and calm his frazzled nerves. Selecting his favourite Sigur Rós album, Takk, Bilbo put his headphones on and closed his eyes momentarily, letting the sublime opening riffs of Glósóli wash over him.  
  
It was just a Sunday stroll, he need to pull himself together and loosen up. Opening his eyes slowly, Bilbo exhaled loudly and took in the breathtaking view before him. Hobbiton was a beautiful village all year round, but in the Springtime it delivered tenfold. All of the dozens of cottage gardens were in full bloom; the farm fields in the horizon a patchwork quilt of every shade of green, splattered with the odd patch of red or yellow if some prize winning tomatoes were being lovingly grown.  
  
Hobbiton was in one piece, so was he, and so they would both stay. Hopefully.  
  
Ignoring the small pang of worry in his stomach, Bilbo continued his sauntering and made his way down Bagshot Row, headed for the outskirts of the village where he would find a pocket of shade and finish his book.  
  
He turned up the volume of his iPhone and slowed his pace to a lazy meandering, kicking small stones with the toe of his brown oxfords when one came within range. Not paying attention to where he was walking, and in his music bubble where no outside sound could leak in, Bilbo walked into the side of someone over a head taller than him.  
  
Letting out an undignified squeak, Bilbo fell on his soft behind, gazing widely up at the tall, mousy haired woman that he had slammed into.  
  
"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" She leant down and helped the short man up, ignoring his embarrassed noises as he tried to swat away her helping hands.  
  
"I'm quite alright, not to worry." He mumbled, thoroughly mortified, as he patted the dust from his clothes.  
  
She offered him a warm, genuine smile which calmed him down somewhat. "But I seem to have forgot my manners, how rude of me. I'm Viv Carrington, Chef Scientfic Advisor for the case study here."  
  
"Bilbo Baggins, nice to meet you." Bilbo stilled. "Wait. Case study?" He looked at her lanyard covered with name tags, swipe cards and photo IDs, and swallowed dryly.  
  
Viv nodded eagerly, grin widening. "Nothing serious or anything, not to worry, your lovely village is quite fine. We're just getting a few samples from around the place, taking photos, that kind of thing."  
  
"Can I ask why?" He eyed her curiously. Viv's long, mousy hair was tied back in a messy bun, and she was in tight navy jeans and a light blue blouse that accentuated her slim stature and the curve of her waist. The only thing about her appearance that hinted towards her scientific background was her busy lanyard and the clipboard in her hands, everything else about her was comfortable and casual.  
  
She nodded, politely choosing to ignore Bilbo's searching gaze as he looked her over. "Mister Azugâl has brought a team of us here to look into why the land is so fertile, we're hoping that we can eventually use this information to make farming in the UK more efficient."  
  
He froze. "Wait, _Smaug_ Azugâl?"  
  
"Of course, who else?" She offered, frown stating to appear on her brow. "I believe it's at the forefront of his campaign, he talks very passionately about this place, seems to think Hobbiton will hold all the answers we're looking for."  
  
Bilbo took a step closer, looking around carefully to ensure that they were indeed alone, the rest of her team out of earshot and all talking amongst themselves, or taking soil and water samples. "I'm sure there are other villages just as green, Hobbiton isn't anything special."  
  
Viv shook her head, grinning excitedly. "Quite the opposite, actually. I'm not sure I've ever seen soil this mineral rich, it's astounding."  
  
A heavy hand landed on Bilbo's shoulder, eliciting a high pitched yelp from the man. "This man bothering you, Miss?" A gruff voice barked from behind his ear, making his blood run cold.  
  
She smiled politely up at the bodyguard, distaste evident in her warm brown eyes. "Thank you, Bert, but he's fine. We're just talking about the case study, not to worry."  
  
The hand tightened on his shoulder. "Boss says we can't talk about the study, you know this Miss."  
  
"To the public or any journalists, Bert. He lives here, he deserves to know why we're poking around." She tutted. "And please remove your hand from his shoulder, he's quite fine."  
  
Bert removed his hand, and walked around Bilbo so he came into the Hobbits view. His eyes widened. The man was absolutely terrifying, taller and wider than any man he had ever seen. Heavens above, he even put _Dwalin_ to shame!  
  
The fearsome man stood beside Viv, crossing his arms threateningly. "You should move on, sir, and let the adults do their jobs."  
  
Bilbo spluttered. " _Adults?!_ Now see here-"  
  
Viv turned and put a placating hand on Bert's shoulder, stopping the man from leaping forward. "-gentlemen, please!" She ordered, shooting Bilbo an apologetic look. "I'm awfully sorry about him, it appears manners aren't a part of his job description."  
  
Bert shot her an icy glare, but remained still. "You should be working, Miss, not talking to the villagers."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes. I don't need you to see him off, I said he's fine." Bert grunted and walked off, headed towards the other scientists that were spread out around the field. Viv watched him walk away and turned back to the Hobbit, offering an apologetic smile. "They get pretty carried away, sorry about that."  
  
"Uh, why all the secrecy and security? If you don't mind me asking, of course." He added quickly, hoping to not offend.  
  
Viv shrugged noncommittally. "Mister Azugâl is quite protective of this project, he doesn't want any of it being leaked to the media until it's ready."  
  
Bilbo nodded. "I see." He coughed awkwardly. "Well, I shouldn't keep you, it was lovely to meet you."  
  
She smiled warmly and offered her hand, which he happily took and shook. "It was lovely to meet you as well, perhaps I'll run into you again sometime, we're here for a few days."  
  
"Actually, if you're ever in the mood, I run a little Teahouse just down from Bagshot Row, pop in if you're ever free."  
  
"How lovely, I'll definitely visit and have a look sometime." She looked at something over Bilbo's shoulder and pursed her lips. "But you should probably go, another one of the security guards is giving you a look, I'd leave if I were you."  
  
He turned and saw another frightfully large man behind him, swallowed audibly, then nodded. "Good idea. Well, good afternoon! I hope all your... uh, _science_ goes well."  
  
Viv chuckled, holding the clipboard against her chest. "And you have a good Sunday, I'll pop in for tea sometime soon."  
  
"Good, I look forward to it." He offered her his most charming smile and left, making a wide berth of the security guard that had been eyeing him, for another bulk of a man had  joined him in his glaring, both of them crossing their arms and watching him mistrustfully.  
  
To avoid a decent sized ditch in the paddock, he walked a little closer to the two men, who had now deemed him not to be a threat and were ignoring him as they talked amongst themselves. Painfully aware of how rude eavesdropping was, Bilbo tried not to pick up on what the two were saying, but couldn't help his sharp ears picking up the conversation.  
  
"... thought we wouldn't have any issues with nosy locals, at least there aren't any Police that we have to buy off this time."  
  
The taller thug grunted in agreement, nodding slowly. "True, those pesky Ereboroean coppers were a handful until the Boss got to their Chief." He snorted in amusement. "Never seen a man _dive_ for a stack of quid before, that was new."  
  
"Swear his eyes went big as dinner plates, they did." The shorter, fatter one added; voice irritatingly squeaky.  
  
"The locals will keep off, if any get too close the Boss will deal with them." He loudly wiped his nose with the back of his hand, making Bilbo scrunch his nose in distaste. "He's got a good track record of making the annoying ones disappear-"  
  
"-Only if his idiotic employees pick up said irritating locals in the first place, my dim-witted companions." A silky voice cut in, making Bilbo freeze.  
  
Ah. He was not _quite_ as invisible as he thought he was.  
  
"Mister Baggins, do stop trying to slink away into the shadows and come join us, won't you?"  
  
Bilbo turned on the spot, greeted by Smaug's full-toothed smile. He gulped dryly. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What a fine Sunday it is, don't you agree?"  
  
Smaug's smile turned predatory as he took a few steps closer, hands casually in his pockets. "Truly a magnificent day for eavesdropping, I think."  
  
He blinked up at Smaug as innocently as he could, not enjoying at all how the taller man was closing in. "I'm very sorry but I have no idea what you mean."  
  
The politician rolled his eyes. "Feigning ignorance again?" He tutted. "I thought I made it perfectly clear how dull I found it when you did that."  
  
Bilbo frowned. "I'll do what I bloody like."  
  
"Yes, you do have the tendency to do that, don't you?" He smirked down at him. "And it's ever so entertaining to watch, I assure you, but due to the fact that you have overhead my moronic guards discussing something I would prefer not to be shared with your new friends, I'm afraid I'm going to have to discipline you."  
  
He took a small step back. " _Excuse me!_ "  
  
"Well my dear, I simply can't let you scamper off and tell your Durin bedfellows what you've heard today." He tapped his bottom lip in thought. "Now, what to do with you? Nothing too uncouth of course, I'm a reasonable man."  
  
"I-I won't tell anyone." Bilbo offered as earnestly as he could, shaking his head roughly. "Really."  
  
Smaug raised an eyebrow. "Oh really, Mister Baggins? And how will I know your silence will be honoured?"  
  
"I'll stay away from them, honestly! You're watching the cottage, I know you are, you'll be able to see I'm keeping away."  
  
"That seems... acceptable. Depriving Thorin Durin of his blossoming romance will be an additional extra to your silence." His grin widened, making Bilbo shiver. "And if I do find that you're spending any time with our friend Mister Durin, a certain photo will be released to the media alongside an article about what Mister Durin has been doing with comely village locals."  
  
Bilbo's jaw dropped. "Y-You would make it look like that photo was of Thorin and I?!" He spluttered. "Are you fucking serious! That photo has nothing to do with him, you can't bring him into it!"  
  
Smaug tutted. " _Language_ , dear. It doesn't seem fit for such awful words to come out of that pretty little mouth."  
  
He spluttered. "There'll be more than dirty words coming at you if you keep telling me how to fucking act."  
  
The politician reached out and grabbed Bilbo's wrist, roughly pulling him close so he could push his lips against the smaller man's ear. "I'm just trying to help you be a better person, _dear_." He chuckled darkly, ignoring how Bilbo was wriggling in his grip. "If you could kindly cease with all the swearing, I would be much obliged."  
  
"Fine." He spat, still trying to rip his wrist free from Smaug's stony grip.  
  
"How kind of you." Smaug released him and took a step back, amusement evident. "Now, I have to go talk to some scientists about this lovely village, do have a nice day."  
  
Bilbo grunted in agreement and turned to leave, but was halted by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Share anything about what Miss Viv or my idiotic security team talked about today and you're finished, do you hear me?" Bilbo nodded. "Outstanding. And just in case you don't understand me perfectly clear, when I say finished, I'm not just talking about your reputation." He leant in closer to whisper threateningly. "I'll make you disappear."  
  
He swallowed thickly. "I understand."  
  
Smaug released him, and he heard footsteps fade behind him into the distance. He stood there, frozen, untill he realised that he hadn't yet taken in a breath so did so loudly, bracing his hands on his knees as he took in a ragged lungful of air.  
  
This wasn't just about the photo anymore. Oh no, this was so much worse.

  
\---

  
Bilbo scurried out his front door, painfully aware there was a good chance he was going to open the Teahouse late again. The crisp Tuesday morning air filled his lungs, spurring him forward; if he ran as fast as he could there was a chance he could open shop _just_ before Old Bolger came in for his morning tea.  
  
He tore the front gate open and turned to close it, then released a loud yelp when he was face to face with Thorin, who had been waiting for him, a large smile on his face.  
  
Thorin chuckled warmly, shaking his head. "Hello to you too."  
  
"Uh. H-Hello." He stammered, looking around wildly, expecting Azog or one of Smaug's lackies to pop out of nowhere and tackle him to the ground.  
  
Noticing his companions discomfort, Thorin reached forward to lay a comforting hand on Bilbo's shoulder, which the man shrugged off immediately then took a step backwards, avoiding his eyes. He frowned. "Is everything alright, Bilbo?"  
  
"Yes, quite fine. I-I'm late to open the Teahouse, I should be off-" He turned as if to leave, but froze when he heard Thorin call his name.  
  
"Bilbo, what's happening?" Thorin took in Bilbo's appearance and his stomach dropped. The man looked absolutely ruined. He was skittish, pale, and had such dark circles under his eyes that he looked like he hadn't slept in days.  
  
Still staring down at the ground, he shrugged noncommittedly. "Nothing, I'm fine."  
  
"You look awful." He said as gently as he could, noticing Bilbo's wince.  
  
"Been sleeping bad, is all. Nothing unusual."  
  
Thorin took a step forward. "Will you be alright to work? Fili and Kili said you nearly fell over yesterday."  
  
His eyes shot up. "They're being overly dramatic, I just wobbled a bit, nothing to worry."  
  
"They said you fell into a table and hit your hip quite hard, are you absolutely sure you can handle a day on your feet?"  
  
"Yes! I'm fucking fine, please stop worrying over me like I'm about to keel over and die! _I'm just tired!_ "  
  
"...Is this why you haven't been returning my calls?" Thorin asked as gently as he could, no hint of malice to his voice.  
  
Bilbo looked up at him sadly. "No, it's just... I've had a lot on my mind, I just need to sort some stuff out."  
  
"I see."  
  
He scrubbed his face tiredly, not at all in the right mind to be having this conversation. "Thorin, I'm sorry, really. I just need some time."  
  
Thorin gulped. Oh yes, he had heard that line before. "It's fine, call me when you can... Please."  
  
Bilbo nodded. "Well, I've got to go... Bye."  
  
He hurried away, not turning back once to see Thorin's hurt look as he watched the Hobbit disappear from view.

  
\---

  
" _Psst_ , Fee."  
  
Fili turned to look at his brother, who was gesturing for him to join him out back in the washing area. He shot a quick look at the front of the Teahouse, ensuring Bilbo was still staring out at the gardens, and quietly walked backwards to join Kili.  
  
"What?"  
  
Kili pulled his brother's black t-shirt sleeve, bringing him even closer. "How long do you think Bilbo's been staring at that tree for?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow in confusion. "I'm not exactly counting the hours, idiot. I'd say, on and off all day, really."  
  
His brother nodded eagerly, a smile starting to bloom on his face. "And who else was doing that all last night?"  
  
"Uncle... Why? Do you think they're _fighting_?" He shook his head. "I know what he's like, if him and Bilbo had a fight there'd be a lot more yelling and stomping."  
  
Kili's smile had grown into a full sized grin. "Yes, so, it's something else. I think they're both just scared to make a move for each other."  
  
"You're an idiot." Fili swatted his shoulder, ignoring the hiss of pain from his brother. "You saw them when we popped our heads in that morning after staying the night, they were wrapped around each other."  
  
" _Clothed_ , Fee."  
  
He swatted his brother harder, this time at the back of the head. "I am not talking about uncle's sex life, I am drawing the line. No. We are not talking about it." He pointed a finger threateningly, choosing to ignore how Kili had rolled his eyes.  
  
"They're obviously _mooning_ over each other, what else could it be about? You know, except that uncle is head over heels for him but doesn't have the balls to say so."  
  
Fili groaned. "You know what he's like, he doesn't do feelings."  
  
His younger brother crossed his arms and stuck out his chin defiantly. "He does, he's just afraid of getting hurt."  
  
He groaned again. "Can we not discuss uncle and his feelings, please? It's really none of our business, anyways."  
  
"Well, maybe it should be."  
  
Fili raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Really, now?"  
  
"You can see how miserable they both are, let's just do something about it." He shrugged. "They're so unhappy, if we do anything wrong it's not going to make it any _worse_."  
  
"What did you have in mind?"  
  
Kili smirked mischievously, a familiar glint in his eye. "Well..."

  
\---

  
Bilbo shuffled uncomfortably from side to side, wishing he wasn't currently standing alone in Thorin's front yard. Kili had begged him yesterday with such wide doe eyes to come and help him decipher between the edible and non-edible plants in the garden, warning that if he didn't come that he would throw caution to the wind and eat all the berries anyway.  
  
The man didn't even seem to _like_ gardening, why the hell was he asking in the first place?  
  
"Shouldn't be here, I _really_ shouldn't be here." He mumbled to himself as he stared out to the street, feeling Smaug's watching eyes.  
  
Quiet footsteps approached, muffled by the soft grass underfoot. He twisted his head to see who was joining him and smiled, which Ori mirrored as he drew in closer.  
  
"Hey, stranger." Ori offered cheekily as he came to stand beside Bilbo, nudging him with his shoulder companionably.  
  
He released an amused huff. "How are you?"  
  
"Good, thanks." He squinted at Bilbo, taking in his bedraggled form. "And you look like shit."  
  
Bilbo released a loud bark of laughter, feeling genuine joy for the fist time in many days. "Yes, I really do, don't I?"  
  
"Absolute shit." He tutted teasingly, shaking his head. "How long since you had a proper nights sleep?"  
  
He shrugged noncommittally. "Few days."  
  
"You can tell, Bilbo." A smirk blossomed on his face. "Is it because of Thorin?"  
  
"Ori!" Bilbo slapped his shoulder, laughing quietly. "No, we aren't shagging till three in the morning, you filthy minded man."  
  
"It could have been the reason. Thorin's been going on a lot of late night walks lately, who's to know whether he's gone for a trip down the hill or a trip into your pants?"  
  
He let out another loud bark of laughter. " _Ori!_ Stop, please!"  
  
The P.A. giggled, nodding his head. "Alright, alright." He cleared his throat. "So, no trips yet, then?"  
  
Bilbo sighed. "No _trips_." He smirked. "What about you and Dwalin, he finally grown a pair and asked you to dinner?"  
  
Ori shook his head. "Not yet... He did come to London with Thorin, Balin and I which was nice." He frowned, looking up at Bilbo confusedly. "There was this one weird night, where we all went to dinner, and before we could even order Balin got an important phone call, pulled Thorin aside and they both left us to have dinner alone. Dwalin went bright red as Balin told him to stay, I've never seen him so upset."  
  
"Uh, Ori... You do realise that was a date."  
  
His eyes widened. "No it wasn't!  
  
He nodded eagerly, enjoying the perplexed look on Ori's face. "It's obvious, Balin and Thorin definitely 'Parent-Trapped' you."  
  
Ori frowned. " _Parent-Trapped?_ "  
  
"It's a classic!" He rolled his eyes. "They set you up, so you'd both finally have dinner together. Tell me, did Thorin or Balin do anything odd before they left?"  
  
"Thorin winked at Dwalin, then he wouldn't stop staring at his plate for the first fifteen minutes we were alone." Ori replied softly, staring at the ground in front of him. "Oh."  
  
"Yeah. _Parent-Trapped_." He cleared his throat. "So... How did the dinner go, then?"  
  
"It was lovely." Ori beamed up at him, his smile illuminated by the street lights above. "He asked me how work was going, what projects I was working on, he was very attentive." He swallowed audibly. "Oh God, it really _was_ a date. I'm such an idiot!"  
  
Bilbo chuckled fondly. "Has he made any advances since?"  
  
"It's only been four days... Maybe he's working up to it?" He offered hopefully, a small smile on his face.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "It's been too long, looks like you're going to have to be the one to do something about it."  
  
Ori froze like a deer in headlights. "Absolutely not."  
  
"It's been _days_ , Ori. Put the man out of his misery and ask him the fuck out to dinner. Date the shit out of him. Wine and dine the pants off him!" He elbowed him companionably, making the P.A. look him in the eye. "Come on, I know you can do it."  
  
"I can't!" He hid his face behind his hands, a bright red blush working its way up his neck.  
  
Bilbo gently pried Ori's hands away from his face. "Do it now. Before you over think it and talk yourself out of it, do it! Go and kiss the pants off him!"  
  
"... I don't know, Bilbo. What if I'm wrong?"  
  
"The man asked you about your knitting projects. _Knitting_. The man wouldn't know what to do with a knitting needle if it hit him in the face, he is clearly keen on you and wants to get to know you better!" He held Ori's shoulders and turned the man around so he faced the cottage's front door. "Now waltz inside, ask that man to dinner, and kiss the surprised look of his face!"  
  
"...Bilbo..."  
  
"Go!" He slapped the P.A.'s arse cheekily and sent him forward.  
  
Ori shot a worried look over his shoulder, which Bilbo waved away, then headed inside, gulping audibly.  
  
Satisfied with his life coaching skills, Bilbo nodded to himself and crossed his arms, waiting to hear an excited squeal from Ori or a booming chuckle from his new boyfriend.  
  
Instead, he was greeted by Kili's mischievous grin as the lad emerged out of the front door, trying to whistle subtly as he approached the shorter man.  
  
"What is it, Kili? You look like you're up to no good."  
  
Kili held a hand up to chest in mock offence. "Bilbo! So rude, I should be insulted!"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"  
  
"Well, these aren't the plants I wanted to show you, they're out in the side garden." He grabbed Bilbo's elbow, leading him to the right. "Bombur made a greenhouse there, but doesn't know which berries to use for what."  
  
"The man's a cook, I'm sure he can identify a few berries."  
  
Kili shook his head roughly, making his dark hair fall about his face. "He doesn't know the flora of this area, he only knows Ereborean natives."  
  
Bilbo eyed him warily. "Sure."  
  
He pulled Bilbo closer, quickening their steps. "Yeah. Weird, huh."  
  
"... Yes."  
  
Out of nowhere, Bilbo found himself pushed through a small stone archway without so much as a 'by your leave' and felt the whoosh of air behind himself as the door slammed  shut, locking loudly. He took a careful step forward, taking in the scene that unfolded before him; a picnic basket, tartan rug, pillows, fairy lights in the trees and a familiar brooding politician lying on his side, sipping angrily on pink lemonade.  
  
Bilbo groaned. "Fucking _Parent-Trapped_ "  
  
Thorin looked up from where he was lying propped up one elbow and smiled warmly. "Tricked you too, huh?"  
  
He nodded, sighing exasperatedly. "I'm an idiot."  
  
"What did they get you with?"  
  
"It's so ridiculous, I can't believe I fell for it." Bilbo rubbed his face tiredly. "Helping Kili decipher between berries for Bombur."  
  
The politician chuckled, shaking his head. "Mine was worse. Fili asked me to teach him hand to hand combat... Conveniently I had forgotten that his mother had taught him years ago."  
  
Bilbo spluttered. " _Hand to hand combat!_ "  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Of course, in this day and age self defence is a great skill to have."  
  
"I suppose..."  
  
Thorin looked the shorter man up and down, taking in Bilbo's restless fidgeting and anxious body language. "Did you want to sit down?"  
  
"No, that's quite fine, I can happily stand over here." He displayed his most genuine smile, which didn't fool Thorin for a second.  
  
"I'm not going to jump you or anything of that nature, you're quite safe." Thorin offered quietly, emptying his amusingly delicate glass of pink lemonade.  
  
"I know you're not, Thorin. Honestly, do you think that's why I'm staying over here?"  
  
"Well then what is it?" He sat up, leaning against the trunk of the tree behind him. "It's obvious that something's happened while I was away, but I can't seem to work out what I did wrong."  
  
Bilbo's face fell. "You didn't do anything, Thorin."  
  
"Perhaps that's the issue, then. Is it because I only called you once I was back in Hobbiton, and was quiet for too long?"  
  
"No."  
  
He scratched his beard absentmindedly, staring up at the paper lanterns above. "Then what is it?"  
  
"I..." Bilbo wrung his hands together, trying to find the words. "I just can't see you anymore."  
  
Thorin froze, his eyes meeting the Hobbit's. "Please tell me what I did, it's obviously so horrendous that you need to end this."  
  
He shook his head firmly, mouth forming a thin line. "I swear, this isn't your fault."  
  
" _Then why is this ending?!_ " His voice started raising to a near-yell, but then he quickly calmed himself down and returned his expression to one of controlled frustration. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't let my anger get the best of me." Thorin cleared his throat. "I need to know why this is happening, please Bilbo."  
  
Bilbo visibly winced, Thorin's pained plea cutting right to his core. "I'm bad news, Thorin. This needs to end now, before one or both of us gets severely hurt."  
  
"How can you say this? Why, only last week you were going on about how I need to start opening up and being more honest, and here you are now, telling me it's over and not explaining why!" He stood up, eyes wild with emotion. "I need to know."  
  
"I-I can't."  
  
He took a step closer. "You must understand, I'm not angry with you for ending this, it is your decision and I completely respect it. But I deserve to know why."  
  
Bilbo covered his mouth, shaking his head. "It's not safe."  
  
Thorin stilled, mid step. "What do you mean _it's not safe?_ " He growled. "Has someone threatened you, Bilbo?"  
  
His eyes widened, and his hand clapped back over his mouth with an audible _slap_.  
  
The taller man took another step forward, only four paces away from the now-shaking Hobbit. "Bilbo... Is this at all related to why you were in the woods the other day?"  
  
He shook his head again, his knees trembling so hard he could barely stand. "D-Different thing."  
  
"How many times have you been threatened?" Thorin asked as gently as he could, hands clenching into fists by his side till his knuckles turned white.  
  
Bilbo slammed his eyes shut. "N-No."  
  
"Bilbo?" The taller man took another slow step forward, his insides being torn apart from seeing his Hobbit so shaken up and terrified.  
  
"C-Can't say."  
  
"You do know that I can protect you, you're safe with me." He offered as gently as he could, hands raised in surrender as he tried to approach the shivering man.  
  
"You're the one w-who's not safe with me." His eyes flew open, his exhaustion painfully apparent.  
  
Thorin frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Fuck, I shouldn't even be talking to you right now." He ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly, brushing the curls out of his eyes. "I shouldn't be here!" He started hyperventilating, cradling his head in his hands.  
  
"Hey, take a breath, okay? You're scaring me." Thorin tried to take another step forward, but halted his movements as he saw Bilbo take two steps backward, eyes wide with fear. "Just, please, sit down? You look like you're about to faint."  
  
Bilbo laughed mirthlessly, the noise sounding hollow and bitter in his ears. "I'm not going to fucking faint, you arse."  
  
And then he did.  
  
In the nick of time, Thorin leapt forward and held the limp body to his chest, then carried Bilbo over to the picnic area where he laid him on his side, head propped up by a pillow, and undid his collar so he had plenty of room to breathe. Crouching by his side, he gently tapped Bilbo's face a few times with the back of his hand, trying to stir him.  
  
"Bilbo?" He asked as gently as he could, very aware that there was a high chance he would awaken disorientated and/or in hysterics.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Trying again, he called his name once more, this time slightly louder. "Bilbo? Are you alright, Bilbo?"  
  
Bilbo shot up, eyes wide and unfocused, pulling in a loud and rough lungful of air. Thorin reached forward and grabbed his shoulders gently, forcing him to look into his eyes. "Bilbo, I'm going to need you to calm down, can you do that for me?"  
  
He nodded, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "W-What?-"  
  
"-You fainted, but you're fine." He took in Bilbo's bloodshot eyes and pale face, only noticing them now due to their close proximity. "Bilbo, how long since you last slept?"  
  
"T-Two days." He took in another pained breath, hands now clutching desperately onto Thorin's strong arms like they were his lifeline. "Nightmares."  
  
The bottom of his stomach dropped. "I'm going to get Oin to look at you, is that alright?"  
  
He nodded, but didn't let go of Thorin's arms, his grip so tight his short nails were leaving half moon crescents in Thorin's thick skin. "Yeah."  
  
"You're going to have to let go of my arms if I'm to go and fetch him." He spoke slowly and patiently, looking into his wide eyes.  
  
"Call him."  
  
"Alright, I'm going to let go of your right shoulder, can I do that?" He asked softly as he started loosening his grip from the smaller man's shoulder.  
  
"F-Fine." His shivering started worsening, and much to Thorin's horror, he realised Bilbo's skin was freezing to touch.  
  
"I'm calling him now." He slipped the phone out of his right pocket, hit Oin's number, then held it up to his ear. "Oin, it's me. I need you to rush out to the side garden now, Bilbo's fainted and he needs medical attention urgently. The doors will be locked, get a key from Fili or Kili." He paused, listening to Oin's directions over the phone. "Yes, cold and shivering. I'll get him warm, please rush. Okay bye."  
  
Not wasting a second, Thorin reached behind himself and grabbed a folded blanket and wrapped it around the shaking Hobbit, his teeth audibly chattering in the night air. Thorin's arm stayed on Bilbo's shoulder the entire time, ignoring how hard the shorter man's nails were now digging into him. The poor man was petrified.  
  
Oin burst through the garden door, Kili fresh on his heels. The younger man froze and took in the state of Bilbo, all colour draining from his face.  
  
"Oh my God Bilbo I'm so sorry, this is all my fault!"  
  
The shorter man ignored him, his gaze remaining focused on Thorin's worried blue eyes.  
  
"Out of the way, lad. I need to get to my patient." Oin chided Kili, jostling him out of his path. He kneeled next to Thorin, looking into Bilbo's eyes. "Lad, I'm going to need you to let me have a look at you, can I do that?"  
  
"Y-Yes." He forced out in between shaky breaths, his gaze now focussing on the white haired doctor.  
  
Oin opened his bag and started examining Bilbo, checking all his vital signs and doing a speedy examination. "Lad, how long since you've slept?"  
  
"Two days." Thorin spoke for him, squeezing Bilbo's knee to comfort him.  
  
The doctors brow furrowed. "Have you been eating or drinking?"  
  
"N-Not really." Bilbo mumbled, voice barely louder than a whisper.  
  
"Right." Oin leaned back on his haunches, his examination done. "Is there someone you can call, you need to be taken to Bree hospital right away. You're dehydrated, we need to get your fluids up and run some tests."  
  
"D-Don't be ridiculous, I'm just tired."  
  
The doctor shook his head. "You need to go now, lad. Who do we call?"  
  
He swallowed dryly. "Call Bell, I want her with me."  
  
"I'll go call her now." He stood up and walked to the other side of the small grass courtyard, phone already out of his pocket and at his ear.  
  
Thorin rubbed Bilbo's blanket-covered shoulders, trying to warm him up. "I can take you, if you'd like?"  
  
"T-Thanks, but I want Bell."  
  
He nodded. "Of course, sorry."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, Oin talking to Bell in the background.  
  
Bilbo cleared his throat. "Kili? Can you please put a sign on the Teahouse tomorrow morning saying it's closed for a few days?"  
  
He nodded vigorously, worrying his lip with his teeth. "Sure Bilbo, whatever you want."  
  
"Good, thanks." He pulled the blanket closer around himself, staring down at his knees. "It was Smaug."  
  
Thorin froze. "What?"  
  
"I-I can't tell you why, but it's Smaug who has been threatening me. He says if I talk to you and tell you what I know, I'm essentially d-dead." He gripped the blanket even tighter and pulled it up so now his head was covered as well; all that was poking out of the turquoise mink was a few messy curls and his pale face. "But seeing h-how I'm not handling it so well, you may as well know."  
  
He closed his eyes and breathed heavily out of his nose. "How long ago?"  
  
"S-Sunday. And before that, Azog. He has the photo." His shivering worsened, making him lose control of his chattering teeth for a moment, till he sighed raggedly and got his tremors under wraps, clenching his jaw. "They both have it. And they'll use it against you."  
  
Thorin stood up slowly, a fire blazing in his eyes.  
  
"First, my nephews. And now _this?_ " He spat, mouth transformed into a snarl. "I'm done with being complacent, this ends _now_."

  
\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS FLUFF AND SUNSHINE AHEAD, I PROMISE.  
> Oh, and I accidentally OC'd. Whoops.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Amazing Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	13. The Last Straw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin gets his plan of attack together,  
> Ori visits Bilbo in hospital,  
> And Bilbo pays a quick visit to an unsuspecting politician. At night. In the middle of a storm. Because of reasons.

Scrunching up what felt like the hundredth piece of paper that night, Thorin sighed tiredly and threw it under his desk to join the small tower of rubbish that had accumulated over the past few hours. He needed to pull himself together, this was not the time to get emotional and lose sight of the task at hand. 

Thorin pulled his large notebook closer and tapped his pen against the wooden table agitatedly, the rhythmic sound soothing his nerves somewhat. He'd orchestrated numerous schemes in the past, why the hell was this one so different? Groaning loudly at the realisation, he rested his forehead heavily against the white lined page. Of course it was different this time, something rather important had changed _everything_. 

Bilbo.

God, it had ripped his insides apart learning that he was the one responsible for Bilbo's state. Even though Dwalin had texted him two hours ago, saying Bilbo was doing well and was sleeping peacefully, the knot of worry in his chest had only unfurled by an inch. Five hours ago he had held a limp, cold body against his chest; and he would do everything in his power to have that never happen again.

With rekindled drive and purpose, Thorin sat up straight and started scribbling furiously on his page, the words barely decipherable in his hurried state. On and on he wrote, ignoring the strain in his wrist from a night of overuse, for there were far more important things to worry about than developing carpal tunnel.

After close to an hour of frantic writing, Thorin finally dropped his pen and slumped back in his chair, blinking slowly at the clock. One a.m. Surely, Dis was still up? If she wasn't, he could take all her attitude, just hearing her voice on the other end of his phone would be enough.

Thorin tapped her name in his phone, held it against his face and closed his eyes, preparing himself for a stern talking to.

"This better be bloody important."

He laughed fondly, a warm smile blossoming on his face. "I've missed you too."

She sighed exasperatedly. "You only call me this late when you're about to do something frighteningly stupid, please just get it over and done with so I can yell at you and get back to the lovely young man that is currently half naked and asleep in my bed."

Thorin furrowed his brow, racking his brain for a first name. " _Steve?_ "

"No darling, Steve is ancient history, do keep up." She rolled her eyes, which he could sense vividly over the phone. "Robert, that gorgeous man from that silly Education committee with the arse that doesn't quit."

"Wait. Not Posh Perfect-arse? I thought he was _gay_?"

Dis chuckled, tutting amusedly. "No, love. He is most certainly _not_."

"That's enough information for one night, I think." He warned, ignoring her satisfied laugh over the phone. "Walking in on you and Geoffrey in my kitchen at that fundraiser last year has been enough fuel for my nightmares, no need to add more to them."

"God, I always forget how stuffy you are."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not stuffy, I just don't need to know the thorough details of your sexual adventures."

"Oh, let me tell you, Robert is indeed _thorough_."

" _Dis_." He groaned, pinching his brow. "Enough, _please_."

She sighed. "Fine, fine. What has your pants in a twist this time?"

"I'm going after Smaug."

Silence. "What?"

"You heard me."

Dis breathed out through her nose, her exhaustion plainly evident. "Thorin, we've had this conversation a million times, I know the anniversary is coming up, but-"

"-he targeted Bilbo."

" _What_!"

"Threatened his life for being around me. I think Bilbo heard something he shouldn't have... He fainted tonight and now he's in hospital."

"Well  _shit_." She sighed loudly, the noise sounding like a distorted, harsh wind over the phone. "I knew the man was a canniving bastard, but going after _Bilbo_?" Dis tutted. "That's low, even for him. And he drugged my darling boys."

Thorin stood up slowly and walked over to his bed, collapsing backwards onto its soft, floral duvet. "I can't let him get away with it, _any of i_ t, and he's planning something terrible for this place... I can feel it."

"I'm sure he is, that cretin... How's Bilbo doing?"

"He's sleeping, Dwalin says he's stable and looking much better."

"Why aren't you with him?" She asked carefully, not wanting to push too far and scare him away.

"I've already done enough damage... Smaug has threatened him that if I am anywhere near him, he's done for."

Dis groaned. "Darling, is this not why you keep Dwalin around? _Honestly_."

"He has a compromising photo of Bilbo, which he'll use to scandalise us both." 

"Your point being?" She accused, her tone sharpening.

"Well... I can't let the photo ruin him."

She let out a loud sigh, rolling her eyes. "You're a damned idiot, Thorin Durin. I'm very sure that Nori could cover up something as simple as a scandalous news article."

Thorin's face dropped. " _What_."

"My dear brother, whoever said that age came with wisdom can eat my damned hat." She chided affectionately, warmth in her voice. "Nori is one of the most brilliant and terrifying people I have ever met, please use his skills to your own devices. Oh, and never cross him, darling. Terribly bad idea."

"He told me he just, I don't know, _monitored the Internet_."

"Oh  _Thorin_." She mocked, laughing quietly. "For someone who is as intelligent as you are, most of the time you're a damned fool."

"But... If he's so brilliant, how did Smaug get his hands on the photo in the first place?"

"I'm sure Nori has a plan all worked out, love. You should probably go talk to him." She cleared her throat pointedly. "And you need to go tell Bilbo that a) he's not in trouble as long as Dwalin stays close and b) that the awful photo of him will never see the light of day."

Thorin groaned. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes, darling. But you're my idiot brother, so I'll be here to snap you out it when you need me to."

"...Thanks. I think." He chuckled, shaking his head.

She paused. "Were you really serious, a moment ago? Are you truly going after him?"

"Yes."

The line went quiet again. "You're absolutely sure, it's not just the timing?"

He clenched his jaw. "One hundred percent. It's time."

Dis let out a ragged sigh. "Then I'm with you, Thorin. Anything you need, you have it."

"Thank you. Really."

"So serious, goodness." She teased, dispelling the tense tone to the call. "You'll ruin him, won't you?"

"I'm going to _obliterate_ him." Thorin replied, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Dis hummed in agreement. "Be ruthless, and don't play by the rules. He didn't."

"I won't."

"Good."

 

\---

 

Waking up with a start, Thorin grabbed hold of that hand that had woken him, the smiling face coming into focus as he blinked sluggishly a few times. 

The blurred face chuckled, shaking it's head. "I thought you were on edge, laddie, but if I knew this is how I'd be received I would have gotten Kili to do it."

Thorin relaxed and let go of Balin's hand, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, you startled me."

He waved the apology away. "Never you mind, Thorin. I should know better than to wake you up when you've had less than six hours of sleep." His eyes twinkled as he reached forward and peeled a piece of paper from Thorin's cheek, chuckling merrily. "And what a pretty sight you make on this fine Thursday morning."

"It's been a long night."

Balin turned the page in his hand and stilled. "Is this what I think it is?"

Thorin nodded. "Aye, it is."

The older man scanned the scrawled writing with keen eyes, taking it all in. "It's very close to the anniversary, are you sure-"

"-Dis said the same thing last night. Yes, I'm sure."

He looked down at Thorin, sadness in his eyes. "You don't have to do this, Thorin. Really. You've done good by us; we're more than happy in our new home in the Blue Mountains, or when we're in London."

"It's not enough though, is it?" He looked up into Balin's eyes searchingly. "You know this was never a choice, not for me. I have to do this, and now that Smaug has attacked my family and now my-" Thorin coughed, choosing his words carefully. "-my _friends_ , he needs to be stopped. Who knows what he is capable of."

Balin shook his head solemnly. "I'll say it again, Thorin, you really don't have to do this."

"I do."

He nodded, sighing sadly. "Then we are with you, laddie."

Thorin stood up, walked around his desk and clapped Balin on the shoulder. "You don't need to follow me down this path, you've already done enough for this family. Go back to London, be safe."

"I'm never leaving your side, Thorin. You'd best get used to that fact." He put his hand on top of Thorin's and squeezed it companionably. "Now stop sulking in your room like a lovesick teenager and go tell Bilbo he has nothing to worry about."

"Balin-"

"-Go. Bofur has said he can keep watch on Bilbo when Dwalin can't, and Nori has updated me with some lovely information that he's pulled some strings, and that that _photo_ won't be appearing in the news anytime soon."

Thorin looked behind him at the desk, scribbled notes strewn about the place. "But I need to-"

"- _Now_ , Thorin. Do you think that Bilbo needs to be worrying longer than he has to be?" A smile appeared at the corners of his lips. "Play your cards right, and he might even give you a nice sloppy kiss for the news."

" _Balin!_ " He chided, removing his hand from the older man's shoulder.

He chuckled, eyes twinkling. "Go visit him. Tell him he's safe. Be gentle. And most importantly, _be patient_. Don't expect him to dive into your arms or anything of that nature, he did have his life threatened only a few days ago just for talking to you."

"I know, I'm not expecting anything." He rubbed his face, then dragged his hands upwards, messing up his hair. "But maybe a shower first, I smell terrifying."

Balin scrunched up his nose comically. "Come to think of it, you definitely have enough time for a quick shower. Bilbo can wait an extra ten minutes."

Thorin grabbed a clean change of clothes, nodded at Balin in farewell, and headed down the corridor towards the large floral bathroom. He turned the corner, walked past a cluster of decorative pug plates on the wall and halted, nearly running into Nori who was leaning against the opposite wall to the bathroom door.

He looked up from his phone, eyes twinkling. "Can I grab you for a minute? And maybe put off that visit to Bilbo, you'll want to hear what I have to say."

 

\---

 

Bilbo moved his boiled carrots around the clinical hospital plate with his fork, staring down at them miserably. Out of all of the things that had transpired in the past twenty four hours, hospital food had to be in the top three worst things that had happened to him. 

No sleep? No problem. Tricked into a romantic picnic with Thorin? Piece of piss. Hospital food, boiled within an inch of its life? Get the fuck out of my house and close the door on your way out, please and thank you.

He grumbled under his breath, sliding the tray of food down his legs and away from his face. "Fucking awful... _really_ , I thought this place was meant to make you feel better, not worse."

Ori picked up a small piece of carrot, popped it into his mouth, and froze as soon as he closed his jaws down on the bland orange monstrosity. His eyes widened as he coughed loudly and hit his own chest, trying to get the food down. "It's fine, don't know what you're talking about." He wheezed, stealing a mouthful from Bilbo's bottle of water. 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm definitely talking shit, this food is delicous; Nigella _really_ needs to get the details of whoever runs the kitchens."

"Alright, it's pretty awful. You might have a point." He returned the bottle of water, then slumped back down in the eggshell blue armchair he was sitting in. "But you've got to finish it, the doctor said so; she said you need you catch up on all those meals you missed."

"Christ, not you too." Bilbo groaned. "I thought all the fussing would be done with when Bell left for work a few hours ago."

He shrugged. "I'm just watching out for you, now eat your awful food."

"Hopefully I'll choke on it, then I won't have to taste it anymore." Bilbo muttered under his breath, sliding the tray back up his legs and towards his chest.

"Bilbo!" Ori gasped, slapping Bilbo's blanket covered knee. "Don't say such things!"

"You're worse than Bell, you are." He stared woefully down at the tasteless spread laid out in front of him: boiled veg, the whitest and blandest chicken breast he had ever beheld, and a ramekin of the runniest mash he had ever had the misfortune of putting in his mouth. 

"Here, stop your whining." A gruff voice scolded from the doorway, and Bilbo found a heavenly smelling roast beef sandwich thrown unceremoniously into his lap.

He looked up, grinning at Dwalin's scowl. "Is this from that brilliant cafe across the road?"

"Aye, so enough with the dramatics. Eat your lunch." He then turned to Ori, his voice lowering to a gentle murmur. "I got your favourite: toasted Turkey, Brie, and Cranberry on Rye." Dwalin placed the warm paper bag into the smaller man's lap, then leant down to kiss him on the cheek.

Bilbo's eyes widened in a mix of shock and delight, then politely turned away from the couple, who were now whispering intimately to each other. Apparently his life advice the night previous had turned out for the best, how delightful. At least _someone_ had had a good night last night.

He bit into the toasted sandwich and released an obscene moan, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Dwalin, you are a fucking _Godsend_." 

" _Easy_." Ori warned, a stupid grin on his face. "He's accounted for, keep your hands where I can see them."

"Accounted for, really? Who's the unlucky sod?" Bilbo asked as innocently as he could, batting his eyelashes theatrically. 

Ori let out an amused huff. "This sod right here, you dick." He smiled goofily up at Dwalin, who cleared his throat in embarrassment before he looked away, choosing to stare intently at the floor.  

It was positively sickening, and Bilbo couldn't be happier for them.

Dwalin made a half-hearted excuse, kissed Ori on the top of his beanie-covered head and walked back outside to guard the door, arms crossed, glaring at anyone who came within a ten foot radius.

Returning to his sandwich, Bilbo wolfed it down at an impressive pace. "I must say, I'm not very pleased about being guarded like I'm in a ridiculous espionage film, but at least the security provides quality food."

Ori chuckled. "It's not that bad, is it?"

He hummed in agreement. "I suppose it isn't. I mean, it's better than _no Dwalin_ , where Smaug could come for a visit whenever he wanted." He smirked. "Plus, it means when you come and visit you stay for a long period of time." 

"I'm here to keep you company, not perve at my new boyfriend." He giggled, and covered his mouth. "Oh God, I have a _boyfriend!_ "

Bilbo peered out at the door and noticed how a deep red blush had started creeping up Dwalin's neck, the man's lips pursed as if he was fighting of an awfully soppy smile. "And you're both positively glowing, I'm so happy for you."

Ori's smile fell. "Wait. I really shouldn't be talking about how happy I am with all the shit you're going through with Thorin, how selfish of me!"

"Ori, stop right there." He shot him his most authoritative look, which was pretty difficult when he was dressed in a lilac hospital gown and grey pants, his unruly curls at near-Einstein magnitude. "You have all the right to be as happy and giddy as you like, just because Thorin and I are... Well, I _don't know_ what we are, but don't curb your happiness for my sake. Ever."

A small smile formed on the P.A.'s face. "You're sure?"

"Positive." Bilbo let out an amused huff. "I would be a pretty shitty friend if I didn't let you go on and on about your new man when it's still new and exciting for you."

Ori's smile transformed into one of the biggest and warmest smiles Bilbo had ever been on the receiving end of, and it soothed his frazzled nerves somewhat. "I'm so glad you think of us as friends, Bilbo. I mean, sometimes I'm not quite sure if people are only being nice to me because I work for Thorin, or they're just being polite because I'm overly friendly all the time."

Bilbo's brow furrowed. "Ori, you're a ray of fucking sunshine. Seriously. Anyone would be lucky to consider you their friend."

"I keep trying to tell him that, but he won't listen." Dwalin added from his spot at the door, an unreadable expression on his face. Bilbo mused, it looked like a mix of fondness and frustration. How accurate.

"Shut up, you're supposed to say things like that." Ori blushed bright red, shooting a coy smile up at his hallway guard of a boyfriend.

Dwalin grunted. "Still true." 

The Hobbit chuckled to himself, thoroughly enjoying this new side to Dwalin that he hadn't seen before. "Anyway." He coughed pointedly. "Of course you're my mate. We've played Bofur's God-awful drinking games together, that's as good of a friendship building exercise as any."  

Ori shuddered. "I've never been so hung over in my entire life."

"I haven't been that bad since University, Christ." He leant back against the pillows, ruffling his hair. "Thank goodness Balin came over with breakfast, otherwise I would have been dead to the world all day."

A shit eating grin blossomed on Ori's face. "You do know it was Thorin that asked him to bring breakfast, right?"

He blinked. "What? I thought it was Balin's idea."

"Nuh-uh." Ori shook his head, grin growing in size by the second. "He wanted to make sure you were alright after Bofur ruined you with his drinking, he even helped Bell pack it all into that cute little basket and the Berocca was his idea."

"Ah."  

"He does care about you a lot, you do know that?" Ori asked as gently as he could, trying not to spook him.

Bilbo let out a haggard breath, closing his eyes. "I mean... I know he does, _I do_ , but it's just..." He opened his eyes, staring over at Ori defeatedly. "I was trying to end it with him last night, I have to. Smaug will hurt me if I come close to Thorin; I'm surprised he hasn't done anything yet, I'm sure he saw that I talked to him last night."

"Dwalin's here, there's no way he'll let Smaug touch you." Ori reached over the bed and placed his hand over Bilbo's, smiling up at him as genuinely as he could. "I've seen Dwalin take on five men, all bigger than him, and all he got in return was bruised knuckles and a split lip. They were all shipped to intensive care."

"Okay, that's terrifying." He shook his head. "But there's more, it's not just my safety that's at risk."

Ori frowned, his hand tightening over Bilbo's. "Let Thorin handle it."

"But-"

"-Bilbo." Ori cut in, with more authority to his voice than Bilbo had ever heard. "Do you trust Thorin?"

Bilbo spluttered. "Well, well I hardly see how that is-"

"-Do. You. Trust. Thorin?"

His resolve melted, and he nodded slowly. "Of course I do, Ori. You've met him, you know what he's like."

"Then leave it to him. This is all happening, _really_ , because of him. And there's nothing you can do about anything, so _let him deal with it."_ Ori finished, his usually gentle voice taking a commanding edge.

The Hobbit raised an eyebrow sceptically. "There is something I can do, I can follow my rational Baggins senses and do what Smaug says."

Ori rolled his eyes. "Yeah and cut off the only person who can help you, what a genius idea. What can possibly go wrong."

Bilbo let out a surprised bark of laughter. "What's gotten into you? I've never seen you so riled up."

"It's because you're being an arse, that's why." He slapped Bilbo's arm cheekily, no real heat to his words. "But really, Thorin will have a plan. You'll see."

He let out a ragged sigh. "He fucking _better have_."

 

\---

 

Bilbo ignored his heartbeat hammering loudly in his chest, and hurried his steps down the hill towards the Teahouse. Despite Bell's threats, Bilbo had decided that the best thing for him to do was to pretend like everything was normal and head straight back to work; even though he had only taken one day off after his little fainting spell on Wednesday night, and his anxiety had only subsided a little. After all, Dwalin was watching him from somewhere, ensuring he got to and from the Teahouse in one piece. He’d be fine… surely.

Friday's were usually not too busy, he could handle it. He was made of stronger stuff, as he kept on telling everyone who asked how he was doing. Which was getting frustratingly often.

Sitting around his empty cottage, he knew, would do nothing to ease his the tension thrumming through him like an electric current. Even though Thorin had sent him a vague text last night: ' **I have it under control, Bilbo. You have nothing to worry about** ', which he hadn't responded to because he had no idea _how_ to, Bilbo found himself constantly on edge, never completely relaxed.

Having ones life threatened could do that to a man, he supposed. Mostly, he just tried not to think about it. He was his father's son, after all, and one thing Bungo Baggins was stellar at was ignoring and disregarding ones emotions, especially when something was seriously cocking up.

He swallowed. _Speaking of cocking up, what the hell is going on over there?_ Bilbo mused to himself as he turned a corner and saw Old Hornblower standing at the front gate of his farm looking rather irritated, face red, shaking his fist angrily up at one of Smaug's lackeys who was trying to force a thick yellow envelope into his other hand. 

Now, Bilbo had seen his fair share of cliche gang films in his time, but this was a textbook example of bribery. _Really,_ he tutted _._ Such a lack of finesse, Smaug should be ashamed.

Not in the mood to get caught up in any more trouble than he was already in, Bilbo watched the exchange from the corner of his eye and quickly shuffled towards his Teahouse, eager to be within its safe walls.

Or so he thought.

Leaning lazily against the Teahouse entrance was Azog and the two hulking men he had been eavesdropping on a few days back. Fantastic. They smirked when they noticed him approaching, Azog moving away from the front door so he could let them all in.

Bilbo gulped dryly. "Good morning."

The smile Azog directed down at him was positively predatory. "Mister Baggins."

_Not 'Lamby' today, good. That's good news... Right?_ He collected his thoughts, this was no time to overanalyse everything that transpired. He just needed to open the Teahouse, ensure Fili and Kili didn't get into any trouble, and.... Wait. Fili and Kili.

_Shit_.

That was going to be fun to manage.

Choosing to halt his mini mental breakdown in its tracks, Bilbo opted for an air of indifference; shrugged noncommittedly up at Azog, opened up the shop, and walked straight over to the barista machine to get it warmed up like he did every other morning.

Fili and Kili started at twelve for the lunch rush, hopefully Azog and his lot would be gone by then. _Hopefully_.

  
_But of course_ , Bilbo thought bitterly as the two young men bounded inside and froze when they saw who their main clientele would be for the day, _fate was rarely on his side._

He gestured for them to come behind the counter, shooting them an urgent and silencing look. "Not a word. They should leave soon."

Kili popped his head over the barista machine, noticed Azog was starting another plate of carrot cake, the remains of the one previous on his left, and bent back down to stare angrily over at Bilbo. "He looks pretty fucking comfortable to me, Bilbo." He whispered agitatedly. 

Bilbo lifted a threatening finger. "They have shit on me, alright, and I will _not_ let you two ruin this for me. We will treat them like we would any other customer, and give them no reason to leave me in a skip in some alleyway somewhere. Agreed?” He wrung his hands nervously, thoroughly agitated by the constant presence of Azog in the corner of his lovely Teahouse.

They mumbled half heartedly in response, which made him shoot them the most threatening look he could muster. " _Agreed?_ "

Fili rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine. But I'm not being nice to them."

"You don't have to be nice, just be civil."

" _Yes Bilbo_." They mumbled grumpily in unison, sounding like petulant children who had been told they had to have a bath.

"Good." He threw their aprons at them, ignoring their surprised squawks. “Now, let's sell some fucking tea."

 

\---

 

“It’s just half an hour till close, we can do this." Bilbo muttered under his breath to the two brothers as he walked from behind the counter and handed Kili a warm plate of scones, for the now-large group of Azog's lackeys who had pulled three tables together to host the rowdy gathering.

"It's been four hours! Don't they have people to be terrorising somewhere else?" Kili hissed, directing a pleading look at Bilbo. "Please, can you take it out? I can't stand them."

"If they make one more joke about my height, I'll do something that I'll regret. Sorry, mate, but it's your turn." Bilbo replied, shaking his head.

Kili groaned. "Fee, please?" 

"Not a chance, brother. You're on your own." 

"Bastards." Kili grumbled, then straightened up and composed himself as he turned to take the food out. 

Bilbo watched him go, and winced when he saw Azog push his chair out as Kili came close, and jabbed him in the hip with it. "That is really uncalled for." He whispered angrily to Fili, who was drying a glass a little too roughly with his checkered tea towel, his anger plainly evident.

"This is a joke, you have to tell them to leave. They're scaring away customers." Fili responded quietly, venom at the edge of his voice. 

His shoulders slumped. "I know, but they're dangerous men, Fili. It's not a good idea to mess with them." 

Fili turned to look at him, a fire in his eyes. "And letting them tease all of us and treat us like dirt is the preferred option?"

The Hobbit worried his bottom lip, and shot Azog a quick, wary look."Well... No. But-"

"-Bilbo." Fili laid a hand on his shoulder, and lowered his voice. "I know it's not my place and this is _your_ Teahouse, but you really need to say something. Or at least get uncle to help out."

That got his attention. "There is absolutely no way I'm bringing your uncle into this, I can handle the Teahouse on my own, thank you very much."

He raised his hands in a show of surrender. "Look. I didn't mean anything by it. All I'm saying is that maybe he could… get Nori to put in some more cameras or something, I know at the moment there’s only two outside pointed at the front door."

Bilbo's eyes widened. “ _He’s installed cameras at my fucking work?!_ " He hissed furiously, making Fili grab his shoulder and pull them to hide behind the barista machine and not attract any unwanted attention.

"Just for a little while, you haven't even noticed."

"And now I'll fucking notice!" He slapped his own face a few times, trying to pull himself together. "No. This is ridiculous. You-" He pointed up at the blonde Durin. "-are going to say nothing about this to your uncle until I work something out." 

Fili frowned. "Bilbo, I-"

"-Not a word! No more cameras!" He poked him in the chest. "Yes?"

He sighed resolutely. "Fine, but I don't like this."

"Like what?" Kili interrupted, now joining the little whispering fest in the copper machine's shadow. 

"Bilbo thinks we should let Azog and his team of twats continue to treat us like shit."

Kili turned to look down at Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "But... They're dicks."

Bilbo groaned. "No, they're paying customers."

"Actually, lads, they're a bunch of fucking pricks." They all looked up, greeted by Bofur's cheeky grin. "And _this_ paying customer would like a lovely Passionfruit macaron, thanks." His voice lowered to a whisper, and he nodded to the dangerous men behind him. "May I please remind you that this place is not exactly the safest place to talk, hmm?"

He slid over a folded five pound note, plucked the macaron right out of the display on the counter, popped it into his mouth, winked at the three dumbfounded Teahouse workers, and sauntered right on out of there.

The Hobbit blinked stupidly down at the note, then remembered himself. "Wait! Your change-" 

"-Next time!" Bofur replied cheekily as he closed the door behind himself and his whistling started disappearing down the lane. 

"That man is the oddest-" Bilbo started, then paused as a small piece of paper unfurled from the folded pound note.

**There's a storm tomorrow night, use it as cover and come over to the cottage at eleven. Use the back door. I'll disable the cameras while you move.**

**We need to talk. Nori.**

Bilbo groaned. "Oh for fuck's sake."

 

\---

 

Thorin turned the page of the newspaper, trying to concerntrate on the words as the heavens opened above the ancient cottage he was attempting to calmly sit in. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stand thunder and lighting, it always put him on edge.

"Tea. I just need some tea." He muttered under his breath as he folded the paper in his lap, went to stand up, and froze as a familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway.

" _You_."

The politician barely had any time to register what was going on before he found himself being pushed back into the chair, a small but firm finger accusingly poking into his chest. 

"Just the man I was after." Bilbo whispered angrily, a dangerous edge to his tone that Thorin had never heard before. "Let me tell you what kind of a week I've had, hmm?" He laughed bitterly, setting his free hand down on the armrest to brace himself on, his body hovering over Thorin's menacingly. "First, Azog breaks into my fucking _bedroom_ and leaves me a lovely note with that photo we're all oh so fond of. Next, my life gets threatened by his insane boss, who calls me _dear_ and touches me when he whispers into my ear." 

Bilbo shivers at the thought, but continues his tirade. "I have a panic attack, I  _faint_ , I'm in hospital for nearly twenty four hours and have to eat their God-awful food, but do you know what's been one of the worst things to have happened? Those pricks in my own bloody Teahouse, scaring away my friends and customers, and treating your nephews like shit for two days straight. Also, I’m pretty fucking sure that Smaug has started bullying Hobbits into selling their land, so whatever the hell it is that you're up to, _and you better be up to something_ , I'm in. I'll do whatever needs to be done. We're getting Smaug out of Hobbiton and those twats out of my Teahouse, and we're doing it now."

Lightning flashed through the half-opened shutters and thunder cracked above them, making the exchange feel far more intense than was needed. Thorin gulped. "Bilbo, don't think that's such a good-"

" _Two days_ , Thorin. Two days of _'Did you need a stepladder to reach that tea canister, shorty'_ and _'Where's your dad, son? Shouldn't you get him to watch the register?'_. Not to mention them tripping up your nephews every time they walk past with a pot of boiling water. It’s the last straw, I’m done." He returned his finger to Thorin's chest and jabbed at the politician in time with his words. "I'm. In. And. You. Can't. Fucking. Stop. Me."

"Bilbo, no."

He laughed dryly. "Oh ho ho, _Bilbo yes_."

 

\--- 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DRAG HIM, BILBO.
> 
> Also YAY we finally meet Dis!... Sort of.  
> In my head, she's a young Emma Thompson.  
> All posh and well spoken but with a fiery attitude and swears like a sailor.
> 
> Oh, and in case you haven't picked up on it yet, this fic is going to be 100%, ultra sex positive,  
> I'm all for everyone getting as much arse as they like in a safe and consensual setting.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Beautiful and sassy Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	14. Whispers of The Arkenstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nori, Thorin and Bilbo hatch a plan,  
> Smaug is invited over for tea,  
> And Thorin gets caught without a shirt on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry this chapter is late from my usual weekly-updates,  
> I was dying in bed all last weekend with the Cold & Flu.
> 
> Writing whilst in a stuffy-headcold-daze was NOT efficient writing.  
> Re-reading the monstrosity that was the beginning of this chapter when I was well again was torture.

"Absolutely not, there's no way in hell he's doing that.” Thorin scowled at Nori, daring the redhead to challenge him.

Bilbo crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. "Last time I checked, I wasn't asking for your bloody permission."

 

Thorin ignored him, and shot Nori another withering look. "You can't ask him to do this, it's far too dangerous. What if-"

“-Stop speaking on my behalf, for Christ's sake!" Bilbo shot up from his chair, banging his fists on the lace covered table so hard that all of the China cats in its centre chimed as they wobbled against each other. “We’ve been discussing this for nearly an hour now and have gotten absolutely nowhere. How many times must I say it; this is my _home_ we’re talking about, don't you dare think I won't do what I have to do to save it." He pointed an accusing finger at the politician. "I told you to back off, _so back off._ "

He shook his head. "It's still not a good idea, Bilbo."

"Actually it's a great plan, thanks for that vote of confidence mate." Nori rolled his eyes. "Now can you two please shut up and let me finish explaining it?"

"Please, do continue." Bilbo shot the politician a scathing look as he slowly sat himself back down. "We're all ears."

Nori clapped his hands together, grinned at them both, and continued on with his spiel. "Right." He cleared his throat. "So, Smaug currently thinks that he has control over Bilbo and what he does, which we can use to our advantage. Since the man has an ego the size of a Gas Giant, I'd say this would be our way in; invite him over for tea after closing, pretend you're trying to smooth things over and maybe talk him out of using the picture. I don't know, make it up. Maybe even use a few pieces of information about Thorin to get him to talk."

Bilbo nodded slowly. "Right, so... _ham it up a bit_ is what you're saying?"

"Precisely." Nori leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You need to get him to brag, let anything about his plans slip. I know it's the last thing that you want to do, but you'll have to compliment him and butter him up a little... We have absolutely no idea what he's doing here, except that it's something bad.” He cleared his throat. “And please keep in mind that he’s not an idiot, and is a slimy bastard. If he thinks you’re up to something, you’re in trouble."

He groaned. “Fantastic."

“I told you this was an awful idea.” Thorin exhaled loudly through his nose. “I should just go and challenge him, ask him outright what’s going on."

Nori rolled his eyes so hard, they nearly fell out of his skull. “Now _that’s_ a terrible idea, God. Let’s let him know we’re after him, what can possibly go wrong!"

The politician narrowed his eyes. “It’s better than putting Bilbo in harm’s way."

“Still in the room, thanks.” Bilbo sighed exasperatedly, and turned to face him. “Look, Thorin. This is the only chance we have right now, and I’m willing to do what it takes to get it done. I know what I’m getting myself into.” He chuckled to himself. “I’ve had _years_ of practice talking to people I hate; you don’t know the meaning of the word awful until you’ve met my cousin Lobelia."

“Smaug isn’t some annoying relative, he’s dangerous.” He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “I can’t see you hurt again, I'm sorry, I just can’t."

Bilbo placed a hand gently on Thorin’s elbow. “I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me... Just trust me, yeah?"

“He’s not going to be alone, Thorin.” Nori added, taking a sip from the wine glass in front of him. "I’m going to bug the place tomorrow while the Teahouse is closed, and have Dwalin and Bofur close if we need them to intervene at a moment’s notice. He isn’t in any danger."

“I still don’t like it."

“You don’t have to.” Bilbo shrugged, then returned his hand to his lap. “I’m going to go for my usual Sunday walk tomorrow, where I’ll run into one of Smaug’s idiots and ask them to talk to Smaug for me and invite him over, and it’s already half done."

Nori nodded, and hummed in agreement. “Brilliant, make it seem like a passing thought when you bring it up. Make it sound aloof."

“Got it."

Thorin looked between them both, frowning. “You’re both far too cavalier about all of this."

“Stop being such a worry-wart, Thorin. Goodness.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, crossing one leg over the other.

“As soon as we get wind of what he’s up to, we’ll have to move fast. Going out on a limb here, but we’ll probably have to go back to London… maybe even Erebor.” Nori added, no hint of humour to his voice.

Thorin’s eyes widened. “Erebor? Are you serious?"

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Nori released an amused huff. “Smaug’s waiting to release that photo at the right time, he would have done it already if he wasn’t. Obviously, something big is going down, and we need to be ready when it does."

“But… isn’t Erebor barricaded?” Bilbo asked hesitantly.

“Yes, but a few friends of mine seem to think there’s another way in.” Nori smirked. “Smaug isn’t as smart as he thinks he is, there’s always another way in if you’re determined enough."

“Nori… why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” Thorin turned to face him, scowl forming on his brow.

He smirked. “You didn’t ask, mate.”

Bilbo cleared his throat pointedly. “So, ah, where do I come into all of this then?"

“We need someone on the inside, so you just stay here in Hobbiton and keep us informed if you see anything strange.”

“Right. Sounds fair.” Bilbo wrung his hands in his lap. “Now, I just have to get him talking and see what’s happening in the first place."

“You’ll be brilliant, Bilbo. Nothing to worry about."

The Hobbit nodded. “I know, and I'm ready to do it, it's just..." He chuckled to himself. "He's just a powerful politician with a small army, I'm sure I’ll be _fine_."

Thorin covered his eyes with one hand. “This going to go terribly."

 

\---

 

“Smaug, good evening.” Bilbo opened the door for his guest, smiling up at him as genuinely as he could manage. “I’m so glad you decided to join me for tea, how are you?"

He eyed the Hobbit sceptically. “Fine, thank you. And yourself?"

“Brilliant, thanks!” He waved for Smaug to join him inside, and closed the door behind both of them. “May I take your coat?"

“How kind of you.” Smaug raised an eyebrow but acquiesced, shrugging his tailored navy suit jacket into the smaller man's hands. 

Bilbo hung it up on the antique hold hangers by the door, then turned back to face the man, clapping his hands together. "So. Tea or coffee this evening?"

The taller man strolled across the room, and sat down on the couch closest to the counter, stretching out his legs before him. "Tea, if you'll be so kind. Nothing too exotic, and keep it black."

"Done." He briskly walked behind the counter and started filling his best teapot with boiling water, his back turned to Smaug as the taller man observed him keenly.

The politician watched him in silence, feigning disinterest, waiting for Bilbo to be the first to bring up the elephant in the room. Luckily he didn't have to wait too long; and as soon as the freshly brewed teapot was sitting in front of him on the small mahogany table, the Hobbit pulled a chair over and sat opposite him, meeting his eyes defiantly. Smaug smirked to himself. Oh yes, this was going to be quite a lot of fun.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I invited you over." Bilbo started, trying his best to appear as casual as possible while his heart hammered loudly in his ears.

Smaug rolled his eyes, and poured himself a cup of the steaming Amber liquid before him. "The thought may have crossed my mind briefly, but my utter boredom from waiting for you to open your pretty mouth and finally speak eclipsed my reflection on the matter."

Bilbo blinked. "Right... well, I was hoping that we could just talk a few things out, and I really appreciate you coming over, I know how busy and important you are, and-"

"-Do you think _flattery_ is going to change my mind?" Smaug interrupted, leaning back on the plush couch.

The Hobbit's eyes widened. "What? I, uh, no. Of course not."

"Good." He crossed one leg over the other, eyes twinkling in the low light. "So, please say what you would like to say and be prompt, for as you said, I'm ever so _busy and important._ "

"I just wanted to say that I think we got off on the wrong foot. I mean, all I've done is made assumptions on you and your character from what I've heard from Thorin and his mates, which is probably rather biased." He stopped staring down at the steam rising from the spout of the teapot in front of him, and met Smaug's eye. "I'm not trying to get out of anything, I know you've made your mind up. I just want to... _understand_ where you’re coming from."

Smaug laughed quietly under his breath. "And I'm supposed to think you’ve suddenly  _seen the light_ and desire for me to share my perspective on the matter?" He rolled his eyes. "You're wasting my time." He started moving as if to get up, but was halted by Bilbo's small hand softly resting on his knee, the smaller man's eyes observing him calmly.

"Don't go, please. I really do want to hear your side of the story." 

 

\---

 

A few hundred feet away, Thorin's hands gripped the frilly lilac pillow in his lap so tightly that his knuckles went white. "Nori, we have to stop this _now_." He hissed, spitting furiously. 

Nori ignored him, eyes remaining transfixed on the multiple screens in front of him, all giving a live feed on the exchange taking place from different angles in black and white. "Shut up, or I'll miss something."

Thorin growled. "I'll do it myself if you won't."

"Shut it you drama queen, you're being an idiot." He gestured casually at the screens in front of him, leaning back in his chair. "Bilbo's fine, please be quiet and let me do my job."

"I don't like this."

Nori let out a short bark of laughter. "Wow, really? I never guessed it, from the three hundred times you've already said that over the past twenty four hours."

"I still don't like this."

On the tiny screen closest to him, Nori watched Bilbo retrieve his hand from Smaug's knee and rest his elbows on his knees, smiling up at the politician sweetly. Oh yes, Bilbo was good at this. "Smaug's taken the bait, he's going to start talking."

"I'd know that already if you gave up the headphones and let me listen in." Thorin said grumpily, like a petulant child.

The red-haired man rolled his eyes. "I'm the professional, I get the headphones. And didn't I tell you to quieten down?" Before he could hear Thorin's answer, he turned the volume up on the headphones to block his whining out, making a gesture at his ears that he couldn't hear him. He pulled his tablet in closer, fingers poised and ready to start typing. "Come on you smug bastard, let us know what you're up to."

 

\---

 

"So I've been told you kicked everybody out of Erebor when you ruled it was too unsafe to live on. Is there any reason you’re so interested in Erebor, or?…” Bilbo trailed off, hoping Smaug would jump in at any moment and steer the conversation where he wanted it to go.

But Smaug wasn’t so easily tempted, the polite smile on his face not wavering one inch. “The land was unstable, if they remained there any longer they would have been in danger. I may have… expedited the process a little, but it was only because I _cared_."

“How good of you."

His polite smile transformed into a smirk. “Indeed.” Smaug took a small sip from the dainty gold teacup in front of him, and balanced it on his knee. “But surely Thorin told you this, I don’t see how I could shed any new light on the matter."

“Well… have you been there recently? Or did you sort of, uh, lock it up and leave?"

“You’re a curious little creature, aren’t you?” His eyes twinkled. “I’ve set up a satellite office there, so I can ensure the rehabilitation of the island is going well. The survival of Erebor is very close to my heart."

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to dive in so soon, or bait him a little before he started asking too many questions… but that would mean he would have to spend more time with the vile man. He sat up a little straighter, noticing Smaug’s eyes view his posture change with interest. No, he was going to do this and dive right in. _No time like the present, eh Bilbo?_ he quickly mused to himself, then went for it. “Is there any other reason you’re so interested in Erebor at all?"

The politician’s eyes widened momentarily with surprise for one split second, but his aloof mask quickly reappeared and reigned in any emotions he didn’t want Bilbo to see. “You should be careful, my friend. That could easily be mistaken as an accusation by the wrong people."

He ignored the slight warning, and continued. “Please don’t take it that way, I apologise if you think I’m insinuating anything... _untoward_. I only mean, you seem like a pretty reasonable man; giving the locals only two days to clear out sounds like something pretty bad was going on, not just environmentally."

“It was all for the good of the locals, I assure you.” He nodded. "There was also a small… _personal_ _matter_ that had to be dealt with that  affected quite a few respected colleagues, but that was not the main reason the evacuation happened."

“Oh, is everything alright now?” He asked as genuinely as he could, brow furrowing in concern.

Apparently, the look worked. “I haven’t retrieved what I wanted, but knowing that it is not in the wrong hands is victory enough. A… delicate collection of files had been rumoured to be in Erebor, codenamed ‘ _The Arkenstone_ ’.” He chuckled darkly. “A positively ridiculous name, really. I think Mister Durin had been reading too many fiction novels when he named it."

“Thorin isn’t that bad, perhaps he thought it sounded… mysterious?” Bilbo offered, wincing when he realised he had just defended Thorin in front of him. Bad move, he really needed to get his head clear and stick to the plan.

Luckily, Smaug didn’t seem to be phased by the small slip, and had returned to sipping his tea calmly. “His father, actually, _Thrain_ Durin.”

“Oh.” Bilbo paused, unsure where to go with this new direction in the conversation. “What was he like?"

Smaug raised an eyebrow in surprise, but answered. “Positively r _uthless,_ unafraid of doing what it took to get the job done. I held him in the highest regard."  
  
 _Before your men slaughtered him in his own home_ Bilbo thought darkly, then pursed his lips to hold his rogue tongue at bay. “Such a shame about his sudden death, leaving two children behind and all."

“Yes, a damn shame.” He reached down and refilled his teacup, no remorse or guilt evident in his tone or expression. 

A brief silence fell on the room, both of them watching each other with interest and gauging where the interaction was going to go. Breaking the quiet, Bilbo reached behind himself and picked up a water glass from the edge of the counter, and filled it with some of the lukewarm tea. “I know its tea blasphemy, but I’m too lazy to get up.” He said casually as he took a quick sip. Choosing to stick with the aloof act, he slouched in the chair he was perched on. “So, Erebor and now Hobbiton? Any reason why you chose here in particular?"

He smirked. “I thought we were having tea tonight to talk about my side of the story, not discuss why I’m here."

Bilbo batted the slight jab aside with a small wave of his hand, his nonchalant mask still in place. “You saw Erebor was in trouble, you did something about it swiftly and got everybody out before they were injured. Your perspective has been communicated; Thorin and his mates were just being twats and trying to find an issue where there was none.” He chuckled. "You’re here having tea, we may as well small talk. In case you haven’t picked it up yet, its all the rage here in Hobbiton."

Smaug’s polite smile returned to his face, but the alert squaring of his shoulders remained. “Yes, _smalltalk_.” He ran his fingers lazily through his short dark hair, gazing momentarily at the chandelier above them. “The two locations do have a link, but that’s not important. All you need to know is that I’m going to transform this village into one of the most influential places in the UK."

“But… we don’t want to be.” Bilbo shrugged. “We only care about having good food, quality company and a cozy home; we don’t _want_ to be important."

“My friend, what we _want_ and what is good for the country as a whole can’t always correlate. We have a duty to uphold.” He met Bilbo’s gaze, his own golden eyes cold and determined. “Your village has been quiet and complacent for far too long, you all need to shake out of your hazy daydream and move forward with the rest of society. A little _modernisation_ never hurt anyone.”

Anger started rushing in his ears, but he calmed himself and did all he could to maintain his nonchalant act. “And you’re the man to do it?"

A wide smirk blossomed on his face. “Precisely."

 

\---

 

Nori sat back in his chair and stared at the flashing cursor at the bottom of the open page on his tablet. The Arkenstone did exist, and all the rumours were true. This was _huge_.

He ignored Thorin shifting restlessly in his chair, turned off his tablet and slid it onto the desk in front of him as casually as possible. “You can stop fidgeting, they’re done and Bilbo’ll be here later when I think it’s safe for him to slip out."

Thorin turned to face him and exhaled loudly, thoroughly relieved. “Good. What did we learn?"

Slipping the large headphones off his head, he closed his eyes and ruffled his hair so it returned to its styled ginger tri-peaks that were his signature look. “I need to call a few people and do a little research of my own, when Bilbo comes over later tonight I’ll be able to give you something solid to work off."

“Fantastic.” He stood up slowly, groaning as he rubbed his stiff back. “I’m going to go work on a few things till he gets here, please give me a few minutes notice before we reconvene so I can wrap up whatever I’m doing."

“Not a problem.” He smirked up at him. “You’ll have plenty of time to pretty yourself up before Bilbo comes over."

He rolled his eyes. “Hilarious."

“Always, mate. You should start paying me extra for being such a comedian."

“Now _thats_ a joke.” He walked over to the door and opened it, then paused. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come get me."

“Of course, now go do all those important things that you _apparently_ do, while I do the real groundwork."

Thorin chuckled. “Arse.” 

The door closed behind him, and Nori let out a long sigh. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and started writing a text.

**NR: Balin, get in here now. We need to talk.**

**BF: I thought as much.**

**NR: And call Gandalf. We’re going to need him soon.**

**BF: Oh dear.**

 

\---

 

Balin paced in the small dark room, selected a name on his phone, then held it up to his ear. It rang for only a moment, before it was picked up and scuffling noises sounded on the other end of the call, like someone fumbling nervously for their phone.

Dis’s whispering voice answered. “Should I go find somewhere private to talk?"

He sighed and nodded sombrely, even though she couldn’t see it. “I think that would be best, my dear."

“Right.” Dis replied sternly, and quick, heeled footsteps on wooden floorboards echoed in the background noise of the call. “I’m alone, what is so important that you’ve called? You usually just email or text these days."

“The Arkenstone is still intact, and it’s lost somewhere in Erebor.” A whole minute of silence hang in the air. “Dis, are you still there?"

“ _Fuck_.” The heeled pacing started again, her stress painfully evident. 

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, my dear."

“Does Thorin know?” 

Balin closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. “Not yet, but he will later tonight. Bilbo just met with Smaug and got some intel, its not good at all."

She let out an amused huff. “How’d you convince him to do that? From what you said earlier, he sounded like more like a fifties housewife than a secret agent."

“He offered, actually. And I never said he was a housewife!"

Dis tutted. “You said he was fond of tea, embroidery and high quality alcohol. How _doesn’t_ that sound like a housewife?"

He chuckled, sitting down in an armchair by the window, and gazed out at the serene vista before him. “You might have a point, but the lad is made of stronger stuff. He got Smaug to talk."

“I think I need to meet this man, he sounds fascinating."

“He really is, Dis. And hopefully you will meet, as long as Thorin doesn’t mess it all up between them."

“Oh God, _Thorin_.” She groaned. “Do you have to tell him about The Arkesntone? I mean… you and I both only know whispers of what’s really in there, if any of them have any real truth… it will break his heart."

“I know, my dear. That’s what I’m most afraid of."

“Is there anything about-"

“-Yes. I’m very sure there will be information on your brother; of all of the things your father was, he wasn’t one to steer away from the truth just because it was his own flesh and blood.” He coughed pointedly. “It will all be on there, Dis. _Everything_."

“ _Christ_.” Clinking of glass sounded in the background of the conversation, indicating she had resolved to Whiskey to calm her nerves. A quiet sip was heard; then a long, breathy groan. “Everything in me is screaming to not lie to my brother, but there is no way in hell he can gain access to those files.” She paused. “If Thorin ends up going to Erebor, you have to go with him. Ensure he gets distracted, and take the files yourself, without him seeing. Then bring them straight back to me here in London. Use Nori’s help if you need."

“I was just about to suggest that, I’m glad you’re on the same page."

“Gandalf mentioned father had started using some of the profits from the mines to start buying off important people, to ensure Thorin was voted in when he started his career... If it’s true, and all of the details are in those files, we need to work out who was involved and do something about it."

“It’s true."

Dis swore colourfully and emphatically, with such ferocity that Balin winced. “I knew father was up to something, but I never imagined the bastard would turn to something like _that_."

“You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, my dear.” He replied gently, trying to calm her down somewhat.

“I’m not an idiot, I know what my father was.” She scoffed. “All he cared about was continuing his legacy in his three children, and doing whatever it took to ensure nothing got in his way. He never really loved us, he loved what we represented. His power."

“Dis, he wasn’t-"

“-Balin, I love you dearly and you have been an amazing friend ever since I was a little girl, but please don’t ever treat me like a fool. I’m not blind, my father died because he was a power-mongering imbecile, who was so focused on being the richest and most powerful man in the UK that he never thought anyone would come for him. The Arkenstone is his way of ensuring Thorin one day was in power, just like he was… he knew what he was doing, taunting Smaug. And now you and I have to ensure Thorin never finds out about any of it."

“Your father was a good man."

“My father was only ever fuelled by greed.” She paused. “Wait. Are you sure Smaug doesn’t have access to The Arkenstone? If he does, we’re all ruined."

“I think he is searching for it still, in Erebor. He essentially told young Bilbo that he knew it was there somewhere, but it didn’t matter, as long as we didn’t have it."

She hummed pensively. “Balin, we need those files."

“I know.” He let out a haggard breath. “But first, we’re going to need a burglar."

 

\---

 

Bilbo fidgeted with the soft cuffs of his favourite grey cable-knit sweater, looking around the table and stopping his gaze at Nori. “So, what did you find out?"

“It’s what I thought, we've got to return to Erebor."

He frowned. “All because of a bunch of files? I mean, I know _'The Arkenstone'_ sounds all important or whatever, but it’s just a bunch of paper, nothing worth risking your life over."

“Say that again.” Thorin demanded with such intensity that Bilbo had to do a double take.

“Uh, that The Arkenstone is just-"

“ _Nori_.” He growled, turning now to shoot a filthy glare at the man, who defiantly met his piercing gaze. “You’ve had _hours_ to bring this up, why didn’t you say anything?!"

“Calm down mate, I had to do some research to confirm its existence, there wasn’t any use in getting you all worked up and the report turned out to be false.” He replied nonchalantly, and took a long sip of wine.

Thorin clenched his jaw. “Didn’t want to get me _worked up?_ ” He hissed.

Nori rolled his eyes, and gestured at him. “See! Worked up. And it does exist, before you ask; Smaug doesn’t have access to it, it’s still hidden in Erebor."

“We have to find The Arkenstone. Those files were my father’s prized possession, I never saw them, but remember him mentioning them once… We can use them to take down Smaug."

Balin cleared his throat, diverting the attention from Nori. “We need to talk this all over before we make any rash decisions laddie, you must remember you have a campaign to worry about."

“Which is only in danger while Smaug remains in power. We ruin Smaug, and we’ve won. We might even be able to return home!” He grinned at Balin, who didn’t return the sentiment.

“It’s early days, Thorin. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.” He let out a tired breath, ignoring how Thorin’s smile had fallen. "First, we must talk to Gandalf. He’ll know what to do."

Thorin frowned. “What has that old man got to do with any of this? Sure, he’s helped in the past, but I haven’t seen him in years."

“Yeah, what does a travelling salesman have to do with fucking _Erebor_?” Bilbo interrupted, leaning forward in his chair.

The politician shot him a confused look, ignored the question, and turned back to Balin. “He hasn’t released anything in years, how do we know we can use him?"

Balin pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “We started that case against Smaug when we lost Erebor, and we will finish it with him."

“Hello? Still here, guys?” The Hobbit cut in again, crossing his arms.

“Gandalf isn’t just a travelling salesman, what makes you think a man that well dressed and intelligent just sells _pet_   _insurance_?” Nori replied, chuckling to himself. “He’s a bloody investigative journalist."

Bilbo froze. “What?! I’ve known the man my entire life, he’s not mentioned it once!"

“He doesn’t like to talk about it, made a few enemies along the way, people he’s had locked up.” 

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard!” He laughed dryly, shaking his head. “Come on, pull the other one."

“It’s true.” Thorin added, nodding over the table at him. “He was working on a piece about Smaug when we were all thrown out of Erebor, but we were never able to finish it due to a lack of evidence… Which is why we need The Arkenstone."

“ _Shit_."

 

\---

 

Draining the last mouthful from his painfully colourful floral teacup, Bilbo put the cup back on its saucer and slouched back in his chair, looking around the room. Only Balin, Nori and Dwalin had remained in the sitting room, all talking hurriedly at the other end of the table. Feeling like he had well and truly overstayed his welcome, he yawned loudly and obviously, stretching theatrically to get his point across.

He was tired, and today had been exhausting. It was time to go home.

Balin stopped what he was saying and smiled warmly up at Bilbo, who had just stood up and pushed his chair in. “You’re off?"

“Yeah, if it’s alright?” He frowned, and looked over at Nori. “That is, _can_ I go?"

The redhead laughed warmly, nodding. “I’ll just go disable the cameras when you’re ready to go, that idiot Smaug had them installed and plugged into the grid. No batteries.” He rolled his eyes. “Amateur. This village’s power grid is so old and temperamental, only a quarter of the time the cameras are switched off is actually me."

Bilbo grinned. “One of the many reasons most of us are on Solar. We don’t have to worry about the power going out. We were meant to upgrade the system a few years ago, but we just never got around to it."

“I’m glad you didn’t, you’ve made my job far too easy.” Nori went to stand up, but was stilled by Balin placing his hand on his shoulder.

The campaign manager nodded for Nori to sit back down, and smiled softly up at Bilbo. “Maybe you should go see how Thorin’s doing, he’s been brooding for a good half hour now, someone should check on him."

He frowned. “And why should it be me?"

Dwalin started laughing and badly covered it up with a cough, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his older brother, who shot him a withering look, and returned his attentions to the hovering Hobbit at the other end of the table. “He’ll listen to you, over the years he’s started getting immune to our logic. Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

“Talk some sense? I have no idea what you’re talking about?"

Balin shook his head, laughing under his breath. “Laddie, he just found out he’s going back home. He needs someone to talk him out of doing something rash, knowing him, he’s currently in his room plotting to leave sometime in the middle of the night."

“What! That’s ridiculous."

“Yes, it is. So go talk him out of it then, quick smart.” Balin replied cheekily, gesturing for him to walk down the hall to Thorin’s room.

“Fine, I can see there’s no changing your mind on the idea.” Bilbo rolled his eyes. “I’ll come and grab Nori when I’m ready to go."

“Good idea, mate.” Nori grinned mischievously. “And make sure you sneak out while it’s still dark, no cosy sleepovers tonight."

Bilbo ignored the three, who had all smirked up at him knowingly. “That’s none of your fucking business, thanks."

Nori ignored the glare that had been directed his way, grin still in place. “You’ve got till four a.m."

“Alright, you git.” He turned and took two steps down the hallway, then spun back around to face him. “Ah, which one is his?"

“The last door at the end of the hallway, the red one.” Balin replied, eyes twinkling.

“Great. Thanks.” Bilbo turned back around and headed down the passageway, paying no attention to the sniggering three behind him. He paused out front of Thorin’s bedroom door, hand hovering as if to knock, but not quite making it. “Come on Bilbo, you can do this.” 

He knocked thrice, and waited. Nothing.

Frowning, he tried again, this time louder. “Hello, Thorin?” Silence. “You know what, fuck it.” He mumbled under his breath as he pushed the door open, greeted by the stunning view of Thorin lying in bed, rather shirtless and wearing only a pair of baggy back pyjama bottoms, eyes closed and listening to music on his iPhone.

Bilbo bit his lip, over the past few days’s excitement he had forgotten just how lovely Thorin’s sculpted, furred chest was. The man looked far more relaxed than Bilbo had ever seen him, with his arms folded under his head and his legs crossed at the ankles, his right foot jigging slightly to the beat of the music. 

Feeling like a right pervert for ogling the unsuspecting man, Bilbo closed the door behind himself and walked over, clearing his throat loudly. “Thorin?"

The politician’s eyes shot open, and once he realised he wasn’t exactly alone he blushed, which made Bilbo’s stomach do an excited flip; the slight rosy hue to his cheeks was far too endearing and his right hand started twitching, wanting to reach out and touch.

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry for sneaking up on you, I did knock and call out quite a few times."

Thorin shook his head as he sat up in bed, pulling the large headphones off his head. “My fault for listening to music so loud, don’t worry.” He ruffled his hair, pushing it back from his face. “Did you, uh, want a seat?"

Bilbo chuckled. “Sure, shove over."

“I’ll just make some room.” Thorin shimmied back in the bed so he was sitting against the headboard, legs crossed, and gestured at the duvet in front of him. “Just sit…wherever."

“Thanks.” Bilbo toed his olive green Oxfords off and climbed up onto the giant four poster bed, opting to face Thorin, and leant against one of the wrought iron posts, stretching his legs out before him. “Any chance I could grab a-“ A pillow hit him in the face, interrupting him mid-question. He laughed under his breath and leant forward, shoving the pillow behind himself so the pole didn’t dig into his back. “Just what I was after, cheers."

He nodded in response, and cleared his throat. “Sorry I’m not more… _clothed_."

The Hobbit batted the apology away, smiling cheekily over at him. “Trust me, the last thing on my mind right now is complaining about the stellar view."

The taller man chuckled. “ _Incorrigible_."

“Says the shirtless man who has made no move to cover himself up, you big flirt."

He smirked. “Well, I can put a shirt on if you-"

“-That’s quite alright, I don’t want to be a bother.” He cut in, a slight blush creeping up his neck under the collar of his jumper. 

“Of course, that’s the _only reason_ you want me to stay like this. Being polite."

Bilbo nodded sharply, crossing his arms. “What can I say, I’m a generous kind of guy."

“Yes, you are.” A fond smile started forming at the edges of his mouth, which he quickly reigned in and replaced with an amused look. As much as he would have loved to keep flirting with the gorgeous man sitting at the end of his bed, he still had no idea where they stood, and he wasn’t sure how long he could stop himself from leaping on the Hobbit when he was in such an adorable looking oversized sweater.

Thorin shook his head, composing himself. This wasn’t the time to dwell on such things. “So, what do I owe the pleasure?"

The Hobbit shot him a coy smile. “I was just… wondering how you are, is all."

“Oh. Right.” He shrugged. “I’m fine, nothing interesting to report."

He shot Thorin the most unimpressed look he could muster. “Nice try. I’ll ask it again, how are you _really_ doing? I’d appreciate a honest answer, cheers.” The politician stared down at his hands, which were in his lap, and remained quiet. Bilbo sighed. “Come on, you know you can talk to me."

“Can I, though?” He looked up, his piercingly blue eyes cutting right through him. “You’re fidgeting nervously and have looked at the door twice... if you want to go, just go. You’re not obligated to do Balin’s dirty work."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow amusedly. “Well if I knew you were going to be such a dick about it, I wouldn’t have asked in the first place.” 

“Sorry, shit. That was really rude of me.” He ran his hands through his hair again, messing it up further. “I’m just… stressed."

He let out a short bark of laughter. “Wow, really? No fucking way, it’s not obvious _at all_."

Thorin let out an amused huff. “That bad, hey?"

“I won’t lie, you’ve looked better. Is this about… the whole _Erebor thing_?"

“If by that you mean that I will be finally returning to my home after nearly fifteen years, no idea what it’s going to be like, and will see my parents and brother’s graves again. Then yes. It’s about the whole _Erebor thing._ "

Bilbo winced. “Shit, that was really uncouth of me wasn’t it."

He shrugged. “It’s fine.” 

“When you’re all away I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him, if he makes any move at all, you’ll be the first to know.” His voice fell. “His bloody lackeys spend all their time in my Teahouse, I’m sure I’ll overhear something of use."

“Bilbo… “ He paused, trying to work out how to word his next question properly. “I still don’t know why you’re doing this. I mean-“ Thorin broke off, messing up his hair again. “I know you keep saying that you want to help Hobbiton, but is that it? You essentially risked your life today, meeting with Smaug alone. There has to be something else, am I right?"

“Oh.” Bilbo replied softly, gaze falling to his lap. “Well… The thing is, I was told you lost your parents two days before you had to hurriedly leave your home, and that can’t have been time for a proper funeral…” His eyes met Thorin’s. “You can get some closure and say goodbye. _Really_ say goodbye."

Thorin’s breath caught in his chest. “Bilbo…"

“And please tell me to fuck off if I’m wrong, but there’s a chance you could even get Erebor back. God knows I would do anything to save Hobbiton; you might think its stupid that I love baking and gardening and all the silly things in Bag End like my doilies and handkerchiefs. But it’s who I am and I love my home... And you lost a piece of yourself when yours was stolen from you.” He inhaled sharply. “So I will do anything I can to help you get it back."

They stared intensely at each other for a few moments, both of them unable to put into words what they needed to communicate. The silence was eventually broken by Thorin, who had sat up slowly, now resting on his knees. “Bilbo… Can I-“ He took in a shuddering breath. “That is… Can I please kiss you now?"

“Christ, _yes_.” 

He had barely uttered the words when he found himself with a lap full of a very eager, _very topless,_ politician.

Thorin had leapt forward, ending up with his knees braced at either side of Bilbo’s thighs, and cupped the smaller man’s face with both hands as he passionately kissed him with such fervour that Bilbo moaned into Thorin’s mouth, his toes curling and hands reaching up to grab eagerly at his strong shoulders. The skin was warm and firm to touch, the chiselled muscles rippling under his fingertips as Thorin shifted one arm down to wrap around the smaller man’s waist, pulling him flush against his bare chest.

“Oh _God_ … Wanted. This… Been. Too. Long.” Thorin moaned into his mouth between kisses, tongue lapping into Bilbo’s mouth eagerly.

Bilbo hummed in response, nails starting to dig into the taller man's shoulders as he pulled himself even closer to the bulk of his chest. He made a surprised noise at the back of his throat when he felt one of Thorin’s hands creep up the back of his jumper, pull the back of his shirt out of his trousers and sneak under the soft white fabric to run the rough pads of his fingers down his spine. 

The politician started kissing down the side of Bilbo’s face, enjoying his soft sighs and the way he groaned when Thorin applied just the hint of teeth, and found his way to the top of his throat. He slowly ran his nose up and down the line where Bilbo's neck and jaw met, then moved the hand from Bilbo’s cheek to grip in his hair as he licked a stripe from his jaw right up to his earlobe, eliciting a ragged moan from the Hobbit as he took the flushed pink lobe into his mouth and gently tugged.

“Fucking _hell_ , Thorin.” He breathily mumbled as he leant back against the wrought iron post at his back, letting Thorin gain access to all of the exposed skin of his neck.

The invitation read loud and clear, Thorin released Bilbo’s ear with an obscene and wet _pop_ , and ran his tongue in one long path down to his collarbone. Bilbo’s hips bucked at the movement, brushing against Thorin’s own for a split second, and it was Thorin’s turn to let out a broken sound. 

With a new wave of determination, Thorin kissed his way back up to Bilbo’s mouth and slipped his hand from underneath the shorter man’s sweater to join his other hand, lost in the curls at the base of his neck. Slowly and steadily, he sat up on his haunches and started shuffling back, gently directing Bilbo with a few soft touches up onto his knees to move with him towards the middle of the bed, the wrought iron post no longer digging into the shorter man's back.

Once they were both in the centre of the giant bed, knees to chests pushed against each other, Thorin reached down and pulled Bilbo’s jumper off in one fluid movement. “You look gorgeous in that, but not as gorgeous as you are in naught but your skin.” He moaned against Bilbo’s neck as he peppered feverish kisses there, his hands busy unbuttoning the front of the white shirt that was the only thing standing in the way of him and Bilbo’s smooth skin.

Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin’s neck, humming encouragingly as he continued kissing the taller man as intensely as he could, thoroughly enjoying the slight burn of his cheeks from Thorin’s coarse stubble. He made a disappointed noise at the back of his throat when he felt Thorin pry his arms from around the politician’s neck, but quickly understood it was just to remove his shirt and smiled up at him stupidly while Thorin gazed affectionately down at him as he reverently slid the shirt off his shoulders, and down onto the bed.

God, if this is how wrecked Thorin looked every time he saw Bilbo’s chest, he swore he would never wear clothes again.

Thorin’s eyes flicked down to take in Bilbo’s bare skin and back up again. Once they met the shorter man’s gaze, he let out a desperate sound and pulled the man into his arms, falling back on the bed and hauling him up on top of him.

More than happy to be sprawled out on top of such an impressive chest, Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows placed at either side of Thorin’s head and licked into his mouth with a renewed intensity that had Thorin panting in no time. Overwhelmed by the electric feeling of skin against skin, Thorin reached up and ran his blunt nails down Bilbo’s bare back, smiling into the Hobbit’s lips as he felt the man buck his hips eagerly in response.

“Shit, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to leave tonight.” Bilbo spoke roughly as he broke the kiss momentarily to get some air. 

He ran his nails down Bilbo’s back once more, thoroughly enjoying how Bilbo bit his lip and rolled his eyes into the back of his head as he did so. “Maybe…” He nipped at Bilbo’s neck, feeling the man shiver on top of him in response. “… you don’t have to go?"

Bilbo sat back a little, so he could meet Thorin’s hopeful gaze. “I’d love to, really, but I have to sneak out before anyone notices I’m gone… they’re watching Bag End."

“Oh. Of course.” Thorin let out a frustrated huff and let his head drop back onto the pillows behind him. “Can you stay much longer?"

He lifted one hand up to cup Thorin’s jaw. “I’d love to continue kissing you silly for another hour, if you’ll have me?” Bilbo offered him a small smile. “Just kissing though, I’m not quite ready for anything too intense just yet."

Thorin’s hands slid up Bilbo’s arms, up to his shoulders, and pulled him down for a tender kiss. “Just kissing you-” He gently bit Bilbo’s lip and tugged at it, eliciting a broken moan from the man. “-is _more_ than enough."

“ _Christ_."

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO ALL OF YOU WHO HAVE SEEN BoFA: Oh God I am so sorry are you all ok?  
> We don't get it here till the 26th because of the 'ol NZ/AUS rivalry.  
> We joke and call them the 'Eastern State', they get pissy and give us LoTR/The Hobbit late.  
> Our bad, NZ. Our bad. We messed up.
> 
> Anyway, I'm rambling.
> 
> I hope this chapter helped in some teeney-tiny way to ease the pain.  
> I will most definitely be a hot mess when I write chapter 15 next weekend, expect a shit-tonne of fluff to ease my own suffering. You have been warned.
> 
> Also... from what I'm planning, I'll probably bump the rating up to explicit next chapter.  
> Just so nobody reads shit they don't wanna read... dicks are great and all, granted, but I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Bodacious Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	15. Ghivashel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf has some explaining to do,  
> Bilbo meets the rest of the company,  
> And Thorin and Bilbo realise they both have a special talent in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING*  
> Smut at the end of this chapter! You have been warned!  
> Also I have decided to bump this fic up to Explicit, you'll see why later.
> 
>  

Wrenching the door open, Bilbo sighed resolutely as he was met with the cheeky grin of his oldest friend, Gandalf, who was watching him with poorly hidden amusement at the indignant huff Bilbo had just expelled. “Of course its _you_ , who else would pop in at a quarter to fucking midnight." The Hobbit closed his eyes and rubbed his face tiredly.

Ignoring the stab, Gandalf chucked good-naturedly and entered the house, hanging his hat and jacket at the door. “My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter? I thought you enjoyed guests?"

“Yes, at a respectable hour!” Bilbo rolled his eyes, and gave up. It was no use trying to teach Gandalf any manners for he was most definitely a lost cause, years of poor behaviour engrained into his person. “Just… come into the sitting room and let me close the door behind you, I don’t want any of the warm air to get out." 

“Of course.” He nodded, winking at him. “Any wine open?"

Bilbo closed the door and turned, raising a eyebrow up at him. “Of course there is, you old git. Coffee table, some of that Merlot I know you like. I’ll get you a glass."

“Marvellous.” 

He padded over to the kitchen, fetched one of his best wine glasses, and returned to the sitting room, greeted by Gandalf’s wide grin. “What? Have I got something on my face?” Bilbo turned, checking his reflection in the closest cabinet.

Gandalf laughed softly, shaking his head. “No my dear, there’s just something different about you, is all. You seem… _happier_."

Bilbo faced the older man and scowled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He cleared his throat, walked over to the coffee table and filled both their wine glasses, then sat on the couch opposite his guest. “It’s you that should be doing the explaining, since you’re not _exactly_ a salesman, are you now?"

“Ah. I wondered if that was going to happen, with all the time you’ve been spending with Thorin and his lot.” He noticed the corner of Bilbo’s mouth twitch at the mention of Thorin’s name, and his eyes twinkled. “He’s a good man, isn’t he? Thorin Durin."

He ignored the blush that he felt begin to climb up his neck, and nodded. “He’s great.” His eyes narrowed. “But you still haven’t answered my bloody question."

“Yes, that.” He took a long sip of his wine, his keen eyes watching the Hobbit squirm under the scrutiny. “No, as I’m sure you are now aware, I’m not _exactly_ in the habit of selling pet insurance."

“You’re a fucking investigative journalist!” Bilbo exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “I’ve known you my entire goddamn life, and I don’t even know you!"

“My dear Bilbo, that’s not quite fair. Why, I-"

“-Actually, it’s quite fair!” He crossed his arms. “How did you even meet my mother, then? I doubt you met her when you tried to sell her some insurance, and she invited you in for tea, where you two became _the best of friends._ "

“At a protest while she was at University, actually."

He froze. “ _What?_ "

“A real firecracker, your mother. She had the side of her head shaved, organised rallies, and could drink _anyone_ under the table.” 

“Wait, rewind that a fucking second.” He pointed an accusing finger at the elderly man. “What in God’s name do you mean by _organised rallies_?"

“Ending job discrimination, Gay rights, you name it… she ran the rally for it.” Gandalf laughed quietly under his breath, shaking his head. “The picture you have painted in your head of your mother is entirely incorrect, I’m afraid. Before she met your father and settled down in Hobbiton she was quite the adventurer, our Bella.”

Bilbo eyed him incredulously, voice barely loud enough to be a whisper. “You’re pulling my leg."

“Absolutely not.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Tell me, do you think you got your spark from your Baggins side?” Gandalf huffed amusingly. “No my dear, your fiery tongue and strong-headedness are both from your Took side; which I think you should probably pay heed to later tonight."

“Wait, _later tonight?_ What on earth have you got planned _now,_ it'snearly midnight!"

“Ah! Thank you for reminding me of the time, we should be off. We don’t want to be late.” Gandalf sculled the remains of his wine glass and stood up slowly, wincing as he rubbed his stiff back.

“And just _where_ are we going at this ungodly hour?” Bilbo demanded, now also standing up, hands on his hips. “You can’t just drop a bombshell like that and whisk us away somewhere, I deserve an explanation!"

“There is no need for one, it’s all quite straight forward, I assure you. I met your mother at a rally, we ran from the police and hid in an alleyway for a few hours and became fast friends.” He paused and checked his watch, pretending he didn't hear Bilbo’s long sigh. “Ah. Midnight.” Gandalf grinned down at him, grabbed his hand, and led them to the backdoor in the kitchen. “Come on now, we only have a small window while Nori turns the cameras off."

Bilbo allowed himself to be manhandled, deciding that glaring daggers up at Gandalf was a much better use of his time. “This is fucking ridiculous, you can’t just drop shit like that and then take us next door where I can’t yell at you because there are people around."

Gandalf paused at the back door, hand on the doorknob. “If it makes you feel any better you can have a quick scream now, but we only have a minute to spare, so do be swift, dear."

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and took a fortifying breath. “No need, I’ll just strangle you in my mind instead."

“How kind of you.” Gandalf chuckled, releasing Bilbo’s wrist from his hold. “Now come on, we have to run as soon as we get out. It’s time you met everyone."

The Hobbit froze and looked up at him, horror in his wide eyes. “Everyone? What do you mean, _everyone_?"

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “Why, the entire campaign team of Thorin Durin, of course."

 

\---

 

Bilbo ripped the paper napkin in his lap nervously, his eyes darting around the table to take it all in. Large dinner parties were all too familiar to him, being from two rather large families, but this was something entirely different. If he thought that the dinner he had attended at the B&B with half of the group a few weeks ago was bad, now he knew it was nothing compared to the proverbial food riot he was attending now. 

A roast chicken had been thrown across the table at one point… a _whole fucking chicken._

He slumped down in his chair, observing the two strangers at the table with a poorly hidden interest. Noticing the look he was shooting across the table, Balin elbowed him in the side companionably, shooting him a wide grin.

“That’s Gloin and Bifur, they also work with Thorin.” Balin explained, and sipped at the wine in front of him. “Gloin is Oin’s younger brother, he deals with all the finances, he’s absolutely _brilliant_ with numbers.” He pointed towards the redhead at the opposite end of the long wooden table who was full-bearded, had a smart deep-red silk shirt on that was rolled up at his elbows, and was leaning on the back of Dwalin’s chair, talking with him animatedly. “And Bifur over there is Bofur and Bombur's cousin, he deals with a lot of our speech writing and translation work; the man's extremely talented with words... I think he speaks around _twenty_ languages now, including BSL.” Balin’s pointed finger now turned to the other stranger, who was quietly sitting back and watching the frenzied activity unfold in front of him, contentedly stroking his long salt and pepper beard.

“Is everyone Thorin hires required to have a beard? I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much facial hair in the same room.” Bilbo asked, looking around the table at the kaleidoscope of magnificent beards around him.

“No laddie, it isn’t a prerequisite.” Balin laughed warmly, slapping Bilbo on the back. “Traditionally, facial hair has always been extremely important in Erebor, a mark of pride and dignity."

Bilbo frowned. “Then why has Thorin kept his so short?"

His smile fell as he shuffled in closer to Bilbo, his voice now a soft murmur in his ear. “When someone has faced great sadness, or has lost a loved one, they can choose to keep their beard short as a sign of respect and mourning."

“Oh.” Bilbo looked across the table at Thorin, who was smiling down at Ori as the he enthusiastically explained something, his mitten-covered hands gesturing wildly in front of him. Sensing the look being directed his way, Thorin looked up and met Bilbo’s gaze, a warm and bright grin blossoming on his face.

Balin opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but was cut off as Gandalf stood at the table, silencing everyone. “My dear companions, it has been lovely catching up with all of you and sharing this delicious meal-“ He paused and nodded at Bombur, as the rest of the table cheered in agreement. “-but we should carry on with the task at hand, lest we forget why we’re here in the first place and the sun rises. Balin?"

The campaign manager nodded and stood up, clapping his hands together. “You all know why you’re here, so there’s no point in wasting any of your time.” The table murmured in agreement, and Balin chose to ignore the rude gesture Bofur made at the ceiling as someone mentioned Smaug’s name. “What you might not know as yet, is that The Arkenstone has been revealed to indeed exist, and is hidden somewhere in Erebor.” He cleared his throat. "It is now up to us to retrieve it, even though we only make thirteen… and not exactly thirteen of the bravest, or the _brightest."_

"Oi, speak for yourself!” Kill huffed indignantly, making a few members of the table chuckle. 

“You’re an idiot, brother.” Fili rolled his eyes. “But it isn’t numbers that matter, it’s determination, and I know all of us would give our left bollock to see that fucker Smaug locked away for a very long time.” He added, the end of his sentence muffled as Thorin cuffed him over the head for swearing. 

Kill grinned over at his brother’s loud yelp, then turned to address the table. “Plus, we have a cutthroat journalist on our side, and he must have taken down _hundreds_ of guys like Smaug.” 

Gandalf only choked on his mouthful of wine at the insinuation, and held up a placating hand. “Oh well, well, I.. Uh."

“How many like him have you ruined?” Dori asked, eyes wide with expectation.

“I-I. Uh…"

“Come on, give us a number!” Dori yelled over the table and in a second flat the table erupted, all of its members shouting on top of each other and gesturing animatedly. At one point, Dwalin had stood up and pulled Kili back into his chair, as he was excitedly hollering across the table at his brother, egging him on. 

“Enough!” Thorin barked, silencing them all with one word. “Do you think that Erebor has just been left empty for fifteen years? It will be guarded, Smaug’s men armed, and most importantly we don’t even know where The Arkenstone _is_."

Gandalf coughed pointedly, attracting all eyes to focus on him. “Actually, we do.” He pulled out of his pocket a small geometric item, only just smaller than the palm of his hand, which appeared to be made out of polished black stone. Placing it on the table in front of him, he pressed three faceted sides of the device and the top face slid open, revealing a soft blue light and a screen below. A soft whirring noise sounded and then a radar-style display flashed onscreen, a soft beeping noise repeating as an antennae rotated at the screen's centre.

“Gandalf… _what_ is that?” Thorin asked reverently, eyes transfixed on the strange electronic device.

“That, my dear, is the key to finding The Arkenstone. Only two of these were ever made, and they track the precise location of The Arkenstone using a specialised GPS wavelength... Wherever your father has hidden it, we shall find it."

Thorin picked up the device and rotated it slowly in his hands. “How did you get this?"

“Your father gave me this copy for safekeeping, when we were working on the case against Smaug together. He feared there was a chance his copy could be ruined, so I was given charge of its duplicate... It is yours now."

He nodded slowly, still staring down at the strange gadget, then closed the cover back over the screen and slid it into his black suit jacket’s breast pocket. “Smaug is planning something for this village, so we must do something soon before Hobbiton befalls the same fate as Erebor.” Thorin looked across the table to Balin. “How soon can we leave?"

“Nori, Dwalin and I can sort out transport and the like though our many contacts, so probably in two days… but I don’t think it’s such a great idea for all of us to go, especially you. You forget you have a campaign to run, and you have already taken enough time off..."

“Balin, you know I have the upmost respect for you, but if you think that I would miss returning to my home for a bloody campaign, you can think again." 

“Actually, I know how you can go.” Ori cut in timidly, wincing apologetically. “The anniversary of the fire is coming up soon, why not say you’re taking more time off to be with your family? You’re not seen as weak, and if anything, it shows strong family values?"

Thorin grinned down at him, ignoring Balin’s groan from across the table. “Brilliant idea, Ori.” He turned to Gandalf, expression turning serious. “After getting the files, how long do you need to get your report together?"

“Two days maximum. It’s already written, just needs solid evidence to support it. As soon as I send it over to my contact, Radagast, he can get it to the right hands within a few hours of it being completed.” Gandalf replied casually as he refilled his wine glass and took a long sip.

“Perfect.” Thorin turned to the whole table, and took in a fortifying breath. “I know you have all done so much for Erebor and my family, but I must ask for one more task from you. You have all fought with me when we lost Erebor, and I ask that you fight with me once again."

“Now wait just a second-“ Bilbo piped up, sitting up straight in his chair. “-what do you mean by  _fight_? You all work in politics, not bloody _espionage!_ "

“When Azog and his men first entered Erebor, it wasn’t exactly _peaceful_.” Thorin replied, shrugging noncommittally. “We’ve all trained in numerous forms of self defense, and some of us have dabbled in a more… offensive skill set."

“Oh my God, you’re all insane.” Bilbo rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands till he saw stars. “I’m surrounded by psychopaths."

Dwalin scoffed. “Psychopaths that have been protecting your arse, you’re very welcome."

Thorin shot him an unimpressed look, then directed a soft smile down at Bilbo. “We do what we have to do to protect those who we care for.” Nori made a vomiting noise in the background, making Thorin roll his eyes. “And we’re not insane, just aware of how dangerous this world truly is.” He looked around the table, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “So, what will it be? Will you remain here or come with me to take back our homeland?"

All at once, the table burst into victorious cheers, the sound of stamping of feet and rapping of knuckles against the wood tabletop echoing around the small floral room. “We leave in two days, I suggest you get some sleep and start to get your affairs in order first thing.” Thorin finished, nodding and grinning at each of them as they stood and patted him on the shoulder as they left the room, leaving just Bilbo remaining at the table, Gandalf having slinked off somewhere. He sat down slowly, noticing Bilbo’s tense body language and the fact that he wouldn’t meet his eye.

“Bilbo… is everything alright?” He asked gently, placing a hand softly on Bilbo’s elbow.

He turned to face him, eyes piercing. “Thorin… just _how_ dangerous is this little adventure you’re going on?"

“Well…” Thorin rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, biting his bottom lip. “Not.. _too_ dangerous?"

The look Bilbo directed at him was positively lethal. “You’re a terrible liar, you know that?"

Thorin nodded, chuckling under his breath. “I have been told on occasion.” He squeezed Bilbo’s elbow once, then went to stand up. “This chair is making me stiff, let’s go to the sofas upstairs.” 

“Sure.” Bilbo responded meekly, taking Thorin’s offered hand, his stomach doing a little flip when Thorin laced their fingers together and gave his hand a quick tug.

He led Bilbo upstairs to the cosy sitting room and sat him down on a plush floral lounge, then slid down next to him and put an arm around him. "What's really the matter?"

Bilbo let out a dejected huff. "Are you coming back?"

The politician froze. "Of course I am, why would you ever think otherwise?"

"It's just..." He turned around in Thorin's grip so he could meet his eye, and placed a gentle hand on his warm chest.  "This all sounds so dangerous, and what if you get injured or you could get trapped there or what if you get-" He started babbling worriedly but was swiftly silenced by Thorin's soft lips pressing against his as he leant forward and cupped the back of Bilbos head gently and pulled him closer.

The kiss remained tender, and when Thorin broke them apart he pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "I'll come back. I promise."

Bilbo tutted. "You bloody better. Otherwise I'll go up there and drag you back here myself."

He let out a soft chuckle, then released Bilbo slightly so he could meet his gaze. "I don't doubt that you would."

The shorter man bit his lip worriedly, wide eyes gazing up at him searchingly. "Thorin... Should I.. That is-"

"-Don't accompany us." He cut in, shaking his head. "Please... You've already done so much, I can't ask you to risk anything more. This isn't going to be some glamorous or glorified journey back to Erebor, we're going to have to hide from Smaug and his men by staying in dodgy hostels and driving beat up old cars... Maybe even _camping_ if we have to."

Bilbo scrunched his nose. " _Camping?_ Oh heavens no, I couldn't do that. Imagine... _Me_. _Camping_. No proper amenities or electricity for tea when I need it. I'd go insane within the hour."

"You're right, you wouldn't last a day." Thorin teased, poking his side.

"Hey!" Bilbo slapped his hand away, trying to scowl up at him but failing miserably, his shoulders starting to shake with contained laughter. "I could last... some hours."

Thorin raised an eyebrow wryly. "I'm sure you could." 

He let out an indignant huff through his nose, rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder and laced their fingers together, balancing their joined hands on Thorin’s knee. “I _could_ take you on, you big idiot. I know how much you like it when I run my nails down your back, all I’d have to do was that a few times and you’d be a quivering lump in seconds."

“Before you could, I’d pull you down with me and have at your ears, I know how much of a weak spot they are for you.” Thorin replied darkly, his free hand sneaking up to stroke behind the shell of Bilbo’s ear, eliciting a sharp intake of breath and full body shiver from the shorter man.

“Hey, hands off.” He batted his hand away, no real sting to his voice. “I’m not fooling about with you in this sitting room, doors open, when anyone could just walk in. I’m sure we’d give Dori a coronary if it was him that found us."

“Fine.” Thorin chuckled, then leant in closer to whisper breathily in Bilbo’s ear. “Then how about we take this down the hallway, behind the safety of my bedroom door?"

Bilbo sat up, remaining in Thorin’s arms, and grinned up at him. “You’re incorrigible."

He shrugged. “And you’re gorgeous."

“Well then, I can’t exactly argue with that.” Bilbo replied cheekily as he cupped the sides of Thorin’s face and delivered the most slow and passionate kiss he could muster, thoroughly enjoying how wrecked Thorin looked when he eventually broke off the kiss. “Well come on then, hallway’s that way.” He gestured his head towards the open door, then mischievously wet his lower lip with his tongue.

A touch too eagerly, Thorin scrambled out of the low sofa, ignoring Bilbo’s amused laughter, and as soon as he was upright he grabbed the front of Bilbo’s mustard woolen cardigan and pushed him against the wall, kissing him thoroughly with a generous amount of tongue and just a hint of teeth.

“ _Thorin_!” Bilbo laughed brightly against Thorin’s lips, utterly delighted to be pinned against a wall with Thorin’s broad, warm chest pressed against his. “I said no PDA’s in the sitting room!"

The politician released a displeased whine at the back of his throat but released Bilbo from his clutches, eyes twinkling as he took in the Teahouse owner’s positively shattered state with his kiss-swollen lips, messed up hair, dilated pupils and rough breathing. It was altogether mesmerising, and he couldn’t tear his gaze away. “As you wish.” He replied, smirking down at him.

He peered from behind Thorin’s back to check the open door, heard no movement, and returned his eyes to the stunning man in front of him; leaning his head against the wall behind. “Well, I suppose I can make _one_ exception."

Wasting no time at all, Thorin lunged forward and returned to his goal of kissing Bilbo so thoroughly that he forgot his own name, and slid one knee between Bilbo’s legs, keen to see just how far he could unravel Bilbo from friction alone. After one strong involuntary roll of his hips, brought on when Bilbo had tangled his fingers in Thorin’s hair and _pulled_ , he pushed even closer, feeling the warmth of Bilbo’s groin line up against his, both of them rock hard.

“ _Christ_.” Bilbo moaned breathily, never tiring of the feeling of Thorin’s lips and rough beard against the soft skin of his throat. Relishing in how utterly devastated Bilbo sounded, Thorin untangled one hand from the front of Bilbo’s cardigan and braced it against the wall as he used it to leverage himself and rut against Bilbo with added intensity. 

This was Thorin’s first tactical error. 

The second occurred when the newly discovered secret door had swung open, and a completely surprised Thorin fell on top of Bilbo and ended up kneeing him _right_ in the groin. With all his body weight. 

“Oh my _GOD_.” Bilbo howled, rolling to the side in the fetal position as he cupped himself, eyes slammed shut.

“Shit, Bilbo, are you okay?” He tried to roll Bilbo over to check how he was, but every time he reached over his hands were slapped away.

Bilbo’s eyes burst open, and he scowled so ferociously up at Thorin that he visibly winced. “Did you just hump me through a _fucking wall!?_ ” 

He looked up and smirked. “Through to your bedroom, actually."

The newly found door led to the corner of Bilbo’s room, between his bed and the ensuite, its sudden opening pushing one of Bilbo’s bedside tables over and spilling its contents everywhere. Bilbo looked around at the mess in front of him and let out a short bark of laughter. “All that bloody sneaking about at night, and I could have just opened this cocking door."

Realising just how convenient this discovery was, the look that Thorin directed down at him was positively filthy. “Perhaps we should keep this just between us, hey?"

Still curled up in a ball, Bilbo raised an eyebrow, utterly unimpressed. “ _Really_ , Thorin? You knee me in the balls and all you can think about is sneaking into my bedroom for a cheeky midnight shag?"

He spluttered. “What? I wasn’t thinking about a shag, just a… midnight kiss?"

“You soppy git.” He rolled his eyes and sighed, propping himself up against the small open door. “Now get me some ice, will you? You’ll be lucky if I ever let those knees of yours near me ever again."

“Sure."

“And Thorin?” He added, watching as Thorin paused, mid-standing up. “We’ll keep this new door just between us, if you’d like. I’m not interested in finding anyone snooping around my pantry or cellar in the middle of the night."

“ _Just_ for that reason?” Thorin asked, raising an eyebrow.

He let out an amused huff. “Well... we’ve only got two days till you leave. We might as well make… use of the time."

Thorin licked his lips, his smile turning predatory. “I can’t think of a better use of my time, spending it in your cosy bed.” 

“Just go get me some ice, you insatiable twat."

“Yes, dear."

 

\---

 

Bilbo rolled over in bed, frowning to himself. He’d woken up for some reason, no idea why, since the usual culprits of _bathroom sprint_ and _dry mouth_ didn’t seem to be guilty of awakening him. 

Rubbing his face tiredly, he sat up slowly in bed, groaning softly. “Christ, what time is it?” He checked his phone, blinking in the bright light. “Three in the morning, fantastic.” 

The sound of glass shattering downstairs removed any blanket of drowsiness from him, his eyes wide and alert. “What the fuck…” Heavy footsteps echoed downstairs, as if someone had heaved themselves inside through the broken window. “ _Shit_."

Bilbo burst into action, pulling a large black Country Road bag from under his bed, and started frantically packing as swiftly and silently as he could muster.

“You’ve been very bad, lamby.” A voice growled dangerously from downstairs, chilling Bilbo to the bone. “We found all those cameras you set up inside the Teahouse, very sneaky.” Something else was smashed downstairs, followed by a menacing laugh.

“ _Shit shit shit._ ” Bilbo whispered under his breath, stuffing his passport and other important documents into his bag, then a handful of pants and socks followed by a bundle of trousers and shirts. 

The bottom step of the staircase creaked, and Bilbo froze. “Fuck this, I can buy clothes later.” He shoved some extra money he had hidden under his bed in his back pocket, did a final check of his bedroom, and slunk out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind himself.

He rested his back against the closed door and took a moment, closing his eyes as he tried to get his ragged breathing in order. “Oh my God."

Realising that this wasn’t _exactly_ the best time to have a meltdown, Bilbo pulled himself up, slung the bag across his shoulders and pulled the largest sofa in the room against the small door to his bedroom, then pushed the coffee table in front of it as well, just for good measure.

“Right.” He blinked, looking around the dark room. “What next."

A loud crash rang out at the other side of the wall, sounding suspiciously like his bed had been turned over and thrown across the room. “Where are you _hiii-ding_?” Azog growled, the last word spoken in a terrifying sing-song voice.

“Yeah, fuck this.” Bilbo spun around on the spot and barreled down the hallway, opened Thorin’s bedroom door and grabbed his shoulders to shake him away. “Thorin! I think we have to leave."

Thorin’s eyes burst open, he looked as if he was about to say something sarcastic about Bilbo waking him up so early, but halted as soon as he took in just how shaken up the man was. “What is it, Bilbo? What’s wrong?"

He shook his head roughly, pulling the duvet off Thorin’s legs. “Azog broke into my cottage, found the cameras, and tried to get me. We all need to leave."

“ _What?_ "

“I-I think he was going to hurt me, as soon as he finds I’m not there, he might come here.” Bilbo replied shakily as he bent over, picked up a pile of Thorin’s clothes from the floor and threw them against his chest. “Come on, we’ve got to move."

Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Dwalin’s messy-haired head popped around the door. “What on _earth_ is going on?"

“Azog, he’s broken into Bilbo's.” Thorin replied, voice calm and confident, while he pulled on the black shirt that Bilbo had thrown at him. “Wake everybody up quietly, we’re leaving now.” He paused, a pair of jeans halfway up his caves as he continued getting dressed in bed. “We might not be back for a while, tell everyone to pack what they don’t want to leave behind."

Dwalin nodded soberly and disappeared, this time his footsteps silent as he moved to awaken everyone.

“Have you got everything you need?” Thorin asked, now standing by the bed as he tucked his shirt into his trousers. 

“I don’t think I grabbed a cardigan or jumper?” He looked down at himself, only then realising that he was just wearing a pair of old maroon tracksuit bottoms. “And I should probably get dressed."

Thorin walked over to his dresser, pulled out a large woolen navy jumper, and handed it over. “Here, wear this. And you should put some shoes on, we’re leaving soon."

“Right.” He pulled on the oversized cable knit jumper and sat down on the floor to put on the pair of brown oxfords he had packed, hearing rustling in the background as Thorin packed his own bag.

“Did you pack toiletries?"

Bilbo unzipped the bag and groaned. “Shit, I didn't think of that."

“Not to worry.” Thorin padded barefoot across the room to his ensuite and flicked on the light. “I’ll pack extra, just in case."

“Thanks.” He went back to the task of tying his shoes, the rush of getting ready and packing a thankful distraction as he ignored what was really going on.

He was leaving Bag End. And he didn’t know when he was coming back.

“ _Shit_.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried to keep the thoughts at bay. “Focus, Bilbo, you utter fool."

“Is everything alright?” Thorin inquired softly, pausing at the bathroom door as he turned off the light.

Bilbo cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine." 

Thorin walked over and knelt by his side, gently cupping Bilbo’s cheek in one hand. “We’re going to be fine, Bilbo. I need you focused and with me, can you do that? I can’t have you panicking.” His voice strong but gentle, eyes darting over Bilbo to check he was alright.

He nodded slowly, swallowing dryly. “I’ve got this."

A soft smile blossomed on his face. “Great, I knew you could.” He stood up and went into his walk-in closet, closing the door behind him. “I’ve nearly finished packing, are you ready to leave in a minute?"

“I’m ready.” Bilbo finished tying his laces, zipped up his bag, and stood up to perch on the side of Thorin’s bed. “Will everyone else be?"

“They’re prepared for something like this to happen, they’ll be ready."

With immaculate timing, Dwalin re-entered the room, this time fully dressed, a large black satchel bag diagonally across his chest. “We’re ready."

Thorin strode out of the walk-in, a large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go."

Dwalin grunted in agreement and left the room, revealing a timid Ori waiting at the hallway. The poor man looked positively shaken.

“We alright, Ori?” Bilbo asked gently, offering his most genuine smile.

The P.A. nodded. “Y-Yes. I think.” He fussed with the woollen mittens on his hands, staring down at them. “I know we’re meant to be ready for things like this to happen, but I never imagined it happening here in Hobbiton."

Bilbo let out a short bark of laughter, which he instantly halted with a hand over his mouth. “My sentiments exactly. And I bloody live here."

“We need to go.” Thorin gestured with his head down the hallway, spurring them both into action.

“Shit, yeah. We should leave.” The Hobbit grabbed Ori’s hand and led him down the hallway, both of them following Thorin and Dwalin as they made their ways to the staircase and kitchen downstairs. 

Once they reached the floral anarchy that was the kitchen, Dwalin kicked it into gear and started whispering orders, all of the campaign team nodding and whispering back in agreement. “We don’t have enough cars, and we all need to leave in one group... As much as it hurts me to say this, we’re going to have to take the push bikes.” The team let out a collective groan. “Hey, shut it you lot. I’m just as thrilled about this as you."

“This is probably the best solution anyway, it’s silent and without light.” Gandalf added from the hallway, taking Bilbo off guard and making him clutch at his chest with one hand.

“Hey! No sneaking, Christ, I don’t think my heart can take any more of this.” He mumbled grumpily, ignoring Gandalf’s delighted smile.

“My apologies, dear. I’ll keep the _sneaking_ to a minimum."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to the rest of the group, who were now putting on their various backpacks and satchels, preparing to leave. “So we’re just going to leave through the back door, no theatrics?” Bilbo asked quietly, more to himself.

“Actually, I might have a little surprise planned for old Azog in there.” Nori walked up to his side, eyes twinkling.

“Dare I ask?"

Nori chuckled. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned to Dwalin. “Ready?"

“Aye, ready."

A dangerous, wide grin appeared on his face. “Brilliant, I’ve been wanting to try out this new gadget for a while.” He pulled out a small black remote, winked at Bilbo, and pressed the large red button. 

Silence.

Nori frowned. “Shit… the guy who sold this to me said-"

A loud explosion rang out, accompanied by a flash of bright yellow light that reached the kitchen from the rear window, followed by an infuriated howl.

Bilbo ducked, shielding his head. “And what the ever-loving fuck was _that_?"

The redhead shrugged casually. “I may or may not have just blown up Azog’s Harley."

“ _What!"_

“No time!” He hollered as he grabbed the back of Bilbo’s collar and hauled him outside, where everyone was hurriedly hopping up on their bikes. 

Thorin strode forward, a mint green fixed-gear bike in tow, which he thrust into Bilbo’s hands. “Here, get on. We have to leave, he’ll be here soon, probably with company."

“ _Company_!” Bilbo exclaimed indignantly as he threw one leg over his bike. “What the _fuck_ is going on?"

“We’re leaving.” Dwalin whispered gruffly as he turned around on his bike, and gestured at the small path behind him. “We’ll head to Bree through the farmland, stay off the roads till we find somewhere to rest. Come on."

“Wait! No, I forgot my toothbrush!” He started to dismount his bike but was halted by Bofur, who had placed a rough hand on his shoulder.

“We’ve got to go, you can just use mine when you need to.” He winked cheekily.

“Share your _toothbrush_!?” Bilbo spluttered. “How can you even-"

“-Start peddling, you idiot!” Dwalin barked at him, as he started leading the group downhill. “I’ll not stop for you, if Azog gets you I won’t be to blame."

He gulped dryly and nodded, spurring himself into action, and started peddling.

“Goodness gracious, what the hell have I gotten myself into?"

 

\---

 

“And what _exactly_ is it that we’re doing?” Bilbo whispered urgently, putting the past bunch of branches over the pile of pushbikes which were hidden beside a firewood shed. 

Gandalf put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer so he could whisper in his ear. “We need to regroup and work out our next plan of attack, Balin is just sorting out our accommodation arrangements."

“Yes I understand that, what I meant is, why the hell am I covering these bikes with leaves like I’m in a bloody  _b-grade espionage film?_ "

He tutted good-naturedly. “Smaug and his men will be looking for us my dear Bilbo, we need to cover up our tracks."

“This is all ridiculous.” He crossed his arms, grumbling under his breath. “I’ve been cycling for two hours, can barely walk straight, _you don’t want to know the fucking state of the skin between my thighs_ , please tell me I can sleep and shower soon?"

“Aye, laddie. The rooms are ready.” Balin chuckled to himself as he appeared from around the corner and handed out keys to everyone, nodding at them in turn as he walked by. “There aren’t many rooms available at such short notice, so you all have to share."

“Makes sense.” Bilbo shrugged, sliding the key into his pocket. “So, uh, do we just walk over to the rooms now and go in, or…?"

“Two at a time, best not to draw too much attention.” Balin cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I have already attracted enough interest paying in cash, not supplying any identification, and booking out all their spare rooms… Thank goodness the owner is a bastard, and easily bribed."

“ _Brilliant_.” He poked his head around the corner, looking at the u-shape of room doors of the dodgy motel, the offensively bright salmon pink paint peeling by the white door frames. The place was hideous. “I’ll just… go now, shall I?"

Balin grinned, gesturing towards the doors behind him. “Aye, laddie. Whoever you’re sharing with will be in just after."

He nodded curtly. “Right.” Bilbo turned and strolled as casually as he could across the cracked cement towards his room, bag slung over one shoulder as he slid the key into the door and opened the door slowly. “ _Shit_.” 

In comparison, the exterior of the room he was now hesitantly walking into was positively _palatial_ compared to the headache of colours before him; even Thorin’s _Nana masterpiece_ back in Hobbiton was less migrane-inducing than this space. Before him raged bright turquoise wallpaper matched with violet duvets on the two double beds in the room, only a metre between them, both squeezed into the small room with only one mint green bedside table for the inhabitants to share. 

The door closed automatically behind him as Bilbo dropped his bag at the foot of the bed on his right and climbed up on it, toeing his shoes off. “Well I suppose it could be worse?” He crawled up the bed and pulled back the duvet, revealing lime green sheets. “God, it is worse. Purple and lime, _really_?" He laughed softly under his breath. "And here I was thinking my guest rooms in Bag End, with their multiple pastels, were a proverbial colour riot" Bilbo's smile fell. "Bag End..."

His musings were interrupted as Thorin shuffled into the room, closing the door loudly behind him. "I... Uh. Swapped rooms with Ori, so him and Dwalin could share. I hope that's alright?"

Bilbo smiled up at him warmly. "Of course it is, I don't mind at all."

"Right. Good." He fussed with his duffel bag on his shoulder and tossed it at the base of the remaining bed, then knelt in front of it and started rustling through its contents. "We should probably get to sleep, I know Balin wants to go over everything in a few hours."

"Makes sense." Bilbo shimmied down the bed so he was sitting at the edge of it, his bag within reach, and also started getting ready for sleep. 

For whatever reason, a heavy air of anticipation fell on the room, making him very aware of his own and Thorin's movements. He frowned as he pulled out his old sleeping shirt, there wasn't any reason for them to feel awkward around each other, they had shared a bed in the past more than once. 

Choosing instead to ignore the tense atmosphere, he pulled off his oversized jumper, slid on the large grey shirt and looked up, catching sight of Thorin's lovely toned chest as he also pulled on a baggy shirt. "Good Lord." He mumbled under his breath, tearing his eyes away. 

Hearing the muttered compliment, Thorin pursed his lips so he wouldn't smile, took a few steps and sat down on his bed, his right knee brushing against Bilbo's. "Do you need any of the toiletries I packed?"

He shook his head. "I'm too tired, I'll just shower when we wake up."

"Sure." Silence again. Thorin fidgeted with his hands, staring down at them. "Did you, uh-"

"-oh, _fuck it_." Bilbo barreled forward and crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss, ending up straddling Thorin with his fingers laced in the taller man's dark hair.

Thorin let out a muffled sound of surprise against Bilbo’s lips but pulled him closer to his chest and wrapped his arms around the shorter man's back, one hand dipping down to squeeze his arse for a quick moment, which made Bilbo release a ragged sigh and arch his back upwards. “ _God_ , you’re a good kisser.” Thorin moaned between frenzied kisses, and bit down on Bilbo’s bottom lip hard when the shorter man reached down and cupped his now-hardening prick.

“You have absolutely-“ Bilbo moved down, kissing his neck “-no idea-“ He bit the line of Thorin’s jaw “-what these lips are truly capable of.” The shorter man finished, as he simultaneously rubbed the palm of his hand against Thorin’s groin and licked a stripe down the side of his throat. 

His eyes rolled back in his head and he released a broken moan. “ _Christ_.” 

Bilbo laughed breathily, then started to fumble with the front buttons of Thorin’s jeans but was stopped only seconds in by one of the politician’s hands halting his. His smile faltered. “W-What? I thought you wanted this?"

Thorin shook his head. “Of course I want this, Bilbo, but are you sure to want to do this? It’s not just the adrenaline from earlier?"

“What?” He squinted up at him, trying to discern if he was being made fun of. “No it’s not the fucking adrenaline, I know what I want."

A frown blossomed on Thorin’s brow. “You’re sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, we can stop now, I’ll understand."

He released an amused huff and removed his hands from Thorin’s jeans, moving them instead to cup the sides of his face. “I’m sure, you silly man.” Bilbo pulled him down and kissed him softly yet passionately, humming encouragingly as he did so. “ _I want this_ , I've wanted this for God knows how long.” He added roughly, forehead pressed against Thorin’s.

“You’re one hundred percent sure?"

Bilbo leaned back so he could meet Thorin’s gaze and shot him a serious look. “Thorin, all I want to do right now is have _your_ _tongue_ down my throat, and then-“ he reached back down, thoroughly enjoying the rough moan Thorin made when he groped him once more. ‘-I’m going to show you just how talented  _my_ _tongue_ is."

“Oh, _fuck_.” Thorin whined, low and desperate, then grabbed two fistfuls of Bilbo’s arse as he pulled him closer, applying frenzied and messy kisses to the side of the shorter man’s neck. Bilbo mewled appreciatively, his hand still cupping Thorin, then breathed in sharply as Thorin began rutting against him, using his grip on the Hobbit’s behind to manoeuvre him forwards and back.

Needing Thorin’s lips against his own, Bilbo used his free hand to guide his chin up and pull Thorin closer, biting down on the politician's bottom lip before fervently lapping into his mouth once more. Once thoroughly satisfied with the heat of Thorin’s lips, Bilbo kissed his way across the side of the taller man’s face and grinned as he realised what to do next, then nosed at Thorin’s ear before gently biting at his earlobe, utterly delighted by the ruined noise the politician made.

Using his rougher treatment as a distraction, Bilbo lowered both hands to the buttons of Thorin’s jeans and swiftly undid all four in one go, pulled the navy fabric apart and reached one hand into the elastic of Thorin’s grey pants, the silken feel of his solid cock in the palm of his hand. “Oh yes, I can _definitely_ get used to this.” He whispered roughly into Thorin’s ear as the politician’s hips bucked upwards into his fist.

Thorin leaned back, propped up on one arm, and made a broken sound at the back of his throat when Bilbo pulled his pants down further, giving him the view of what the Hobbit’s hand looked like wrapped around his thick prick. “Jesus, B-Bilbo.” He stuttered raggedly as he slammed his eyes shut, brought on when Bilbo used a thumb to tease at his slit, smearing a bead of precome.

“Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.” Bilbo muttered reverently under his breath as he started pumping at Thorin in earnest, mesmerised by the view of the politician as he pulled him apart, stroke by stroke. 

“Wait! Stop, getting close.” Thorin opened his eyes and shook his head, panting heavily. “Don’t get me wrong, this is amazing, but I don’t want to come in my pants like I’m a teenager again... can we please do this without so many clothes?"

The grin Bilbo directed down at him was startlingly bright. “Shit yes.” He slid backwards off Thorin’s lap and grabbed at the top of his opened jeans and pants, pulling them down the politician’s muscled thighs whilst making heated eye contact the entire time. Once they were pooled at his ankles, Bilbo tried to pull them off but ended up falling on his arse, laughing at his own clumsiness.

Thorin leant forward and curiously peered down, taking in the amusing view of Bilbo sitting cross-legged at his feet, trying with all his might to get the fabric off his legs. He chuckled softly. “Need any help down there?” 

Bilbo’s gaze met his, eyes crinkling at the sides from laughter. “I can handle this… I think?” He burst into another fit of giggles, making Thorin’s stomach do a flip; the shorter man’s hair was the wildest he had ever seen it, his lips red and kiss swollen, and he had never looked more gorgeous. “Shit. Wait…” The Hobbit muttered, then pulled one leg free and cheered, raising both hands. “Alright, next one.” He fumbled with the bunch of denim Thorin’s remaining trapped foot, brow furrowed in concentration. “God dammit, why do you have to wear such tight jeans?"

“Because they make my arse look fantastic.” Thorin offered, shrugging nonchalantly.

The Hobbit paused, looked up at him and wet his bottom lip, then tugged at Thorin’s trousers with renewed fervour. “Which I better fucking see, just as soon as I set it free from these _bloody jeans_."

Thorin’s laugh boomed around the small room, his head tossed back. “Save my arse, Bilbo! Save it from these jeans." 

“Shut up, you’re not helping!” Bilbo scolded, no heat to his words, as he stuck his tongue out one side of his mouth in concentration. He brought Thorin’s foot against his chest and slipped the fabric up his ankle, off his foot, the rest of the fabric following untill it was unceremoniously thrown on the floor beside him. His eyes met Thorin’s, the heat of them making the politician gulp dryly. “Now that’s much better.” 

Starting at Thorin’s shins, Bilbo slowly and wetly kissed his way up Thorin’s left side, his fingertips following in suit, running against taught muscle as they made their way upwards. Perched on his knees, his hands braced on both of Thorin’s thighs, Bilbo took in the sight before him and moaned breathily. “God, if only you could see how amazing you look.” He whispered raggedly against Thorin’s thigh as he started making his way up his body, then paused as he licked the line of Thorin’s hip, smirking up at him as Thorin cursed under his breath and bucked his hips involuntarily. 

Thorin was an absolute wreck, a quivering heap of his former self. Dressed only in a ratty oversized shirt, naked from the waist down, he was now braced on his elbows on the bed as the still-fully-clothed Hobbit licked and bit his way up Thorin’s taught body, hands reaching out and groping all of the sweat drenched skin within reach. When he reached the edge of Thorin’s shirt he sat up and straddled the politician’s chest, then slid both hands under the grey fabric and ran his nails down his broad chest, smirking down at him when Thorin bucked his hips again and reached up to cup his arse.

“You too.” Thorin moaned breathily, kneading the plump cheeks in his hands. “Take of your clothes... too many clothes.” Reduced to an overstimulated shaking mess with the vocabulary of a caveman, Thorin started to pull at the waistband of Bilbo’s maroon tracksuit bottoms. 

Bilbo lifted a leg up off Thorin’s chest and sat by his side, pulled his own shirt off in one movement and started to remove his trousers when he was halted by one of Thorin’s hands, then found himself flipped onto his back with the politician looming over him, now straddling his thighs. “Please, let me.” That was all the warning Bilbo got before Thorin shimmied down his thighs and ripped off his trousers and pants in one fluid motion, then made a wounded noise when his eyes took in the expanse of Bilbo’s flushed and naked skin. “You are the loveliest sight I have ever beheld."

“What?” Bilbo frowned up at him, braced up on his elbows, and blew a stray curl away from his face. “Stop being ridiculous."

“You’re joking, right?” Thorin’s eyes lazily trailed over Bilbo’s body, taking in the soft pudge at his belly, the curve of his thighs and his enticingly flushed cock, now fully hard and pointing towards the Hobbit's pale stomach. “Do you really have no idea how stunning you are?"

He tutted self deprecatingly, rolling his eyes. “I’m not exactly as picturesque as all _that_.” Bilbo gestured to Thorin’s muscled body, releasing a soft sigh.

“Bilbo…” Thorin uttered so affectionately and gently that the Hobbit shivered and met his gaze. “…I’m not lying.” His gaze turned predatory and he licked his lips. “Well, I suppose if you don’t believe what I _say_ , perhaps you’ll believe me if I try other _methods_."

“What on earth do you- _fuck_!” Bilbo hissed as he slammed his head against the bed behind him, hands covering his face as Thorin took him into his mouth, one hand splayed across the Hobbit’s hipbone to keep him in place, the other working at the base of Bilbo’s prick in time with his bobbing head.

Breathing loudly out of his nose, Thorin opened his eyes, looked up at Bilbo and released a broken moan when he saw how ruined the shorter man was, the vibrations making the Hobbit buck up his hips and suck in a sharp breath of air. Oh yes, he would have to see the Hobbit flushed and desperate like this more often.

Deciding it was time to up the pace, Thorin smirked to himself as he let go of the base of Bilbo’s prick, chuckled darkly as he heard the Hobbit’s confused murmur at the loss of his hand; then clutched at Bilbo’s free hipbone as he pushed his mouth fully onto the shorter man's prick, feeling him all the way at the back of his throat.

“Thorin!” Bilbo howled, feet kicking at the bed below him. “Oh my fucking _God,_ Thorin, where the hell did you learn to do that?"

Thoroughly pleased with himself, Thorin clenched the back of his throat around Bilbo, and was so satisfied by the broken sound the Hobbit had made that a bead of precome dripped out of his cock and onto the purple duvet below. Aware of his own desperate need, Thorin sped up his ministrations, sharp nose repeatedly pressing against the near-ginger mop of curls surrounding the Hobbit’s cock.

“Shit, Thorin I’m close. I’m close! I’m-“ He broke off with a strangled cry, hands now gripping the sides of Thorin’s face as he rode out the blissful waves of his orgasm. “Oh _fuck_ , oh…” Bilbo collapsed backwards into a boneless mess, already basking in the afterglow. 

Thorin released Bilbo’s softening prick from his mouth slowly, aware of its oversensitivity, and gently kissed the Hobbit’s inner thigh as he took himself in hand and started fisting at his own cock, forehead resting on Bilbo’s thigh.

“T-Thorin, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bilbo sluggishly asked, blinking slowly up at him.

He shook his head, panting loudly. “Stay there, don’t worry about me. You only just came."

“If you think I’m going to sit back and let you just wank yourself off on top of me, you’ve got another thing coming you big idiot.” Bilbo huffed before he slid down the bed, Thorin still above him and on all fours, and batted the taller man’s hand away as he propped himself up on one elbow and licked a long stripe up the underside of Thorin’s prick. “Thorin, I want you to fuck my mouth."

Thorin wobbled for a second, completely taken off guard. “ _What_? Are you sure?"

“Darling, you’re not the only one who can deep throat around here.” Bilbo replied dryly before he reached up with one hand, grabbed Thorin’s muscular arse and pushed the politician down his throat, as far as it could go.

“Oh my _God_.” Thorin shouted hoarsely as he pushed against the mattress with both hands, his core clenched and taught as Bilbo pulled him down, humming with approval as he started tentatively thrusting into Bilbo’s mouth. “If-If I go too fast, you have to tell me?"

Bilbo released Thorin’s thick cock with a filthy slurp. “Stop worrying.” He chided, wiping the mix of saliva and precome from his lips with the back of his hand. “I’ll just lean back if you’re going to deep... but I don’t have a gag reflex, so you can’t hurt me."

“ _Jesus Christ_.” Thorin groaned brokenly as he opened his eyes and looked down at Bilbo who met his eyes, smirked, and tilted his head back so he could see him better, even though he was looking at Thorin upside down. 

“Do you want to watch while you press yourself down my throat?” Thorin bit his lips and nodded eagerly in response, making Bilbo laugh darkly. “Then keep your eyes open, darling.” Maintaining eye contact, Bilbo propped himself up again with both elbows, fully trusting Thorin, and opened his mouth expectantly. “Well? Come on then?"

Thorin braced his weight on one arm as he reached down and angled his heavy prick into Bilbo’s mouth, wincing when it started sliding over the Hobbit’s tongue, fully entering his mouth. Wobbling momentarily from the overwhelming feeling of Bilbo wrapped around his cock, Thorin let go of the base and propped himself with both arms, now hovering over the Hobbit, his hips the only way any friction would take place.

Taking a steadying breath, Thorin slowly lowered himself down the back of Bilbo’s throat, cursing under his breath the entire time, the experience wholly new to him. He’d never had someone trust him so fully, that alone taking him completely off guard. 

Breathing loudly through his nose, Bilbo swallowed around him, eyes crinkling with amusement as he watched Thorin clench his face and punch the mattress with one hand. “ _Shit, B-_ Bilbo.” Thorin stammered raggedly, his hips starting to bring up the pace as he began to thrust down Bilbo’s throat in earnest. “So-So close, oh God.” He clenched his eyes shut and focussed on his building orgasm, unable to watch himself disappear into the Hobbit’s mouth, the sight bringing him close to the edge.

Clenching his throat in staccato movements when Thorin sunk downwards, Bilbo let out a pleased sound when he heard Thorin wince and mutter breathily an “Oh, _fuck!_ ” and released down the back of the Hobbit's throat, sinking down to the hilt. Once the Hobbit felt the last throbs of Thorin’s orgasm pulse in his throat, he let his elbows slide across the bed and lay flat down on his back, the politician’s spend cock slipping out from his mouth.

Thorin teetered for a moment and then sluggishly fell to his side, pulling Bilbo up the bed so he could wrap his arms around him. “That.” He paused to kiss Bilbo lazily and thoroughly, tasting his own saltiness on the Hobbit’s tongue. “Was incredible."

He chuckled, closing his eyes as he buried his face against Thorin’s chest. “You weren’t so bad yourself."

“I suppose.” Thorin replied aloofly, planting a soft kiss in Bilbo’s curls. “But we should probably get under the covers, I don’t want to catch a cold."

Bilbo peered up at him, leaning back slightly. “Sounds good to me.” He untangled his legs from the politician’s and crawled towards the head of the bed on all fours, knowing exactly what kind of view he was giving Thorin, gauging from the ragged moan he let out. Laughing quietly to himself, he turned around and slid under the covers, pulling it up to his chest. “You, get here now. And get rid of that bloody shirt."

“No arguments here.” He ripped his shirt off and made his way over to Bilbo, enjoying the pleased noise he made when he watched the politician come in closer.

“Wait.” Bilbo put a hand on his chest, stilling him, and smiled up at him coyly. “Can you just quickly… maybe stand by the bedside lamp and let me see all of you?"

He huffed amusedly but did as he was asked, knees wobbling slightly as he stood up by the bed, his recent orgasm still weakening him. “Well?"

Bilbo drank in the view of Thorin’s tanned and muscular body from toe to tip, covering his mouth with one hand as his exhausted prick did an interested jolt. “God, you are beautiful."

Thorin blushed, hanging his head. “So are you.” He heard Bilbo’s huff of disbelief and crawled back into bed, curling himself around the shorter man’s back. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you are."

“Yes, yes. Now shut up and go to sleep.” Bilbo mumbled under his breath, moving Thorin’s hand that was cupping his small belly up to his chest, away from the soft bulge.

The politician hummed in frustration and slid his hand back down, fingers cupping the little belly in earnest. “Every single inch of you I adore, even the bits you might not like so much yourself."

He grumbled under his breath but let the hand stay, sighing defeatedly. “Alright I get it, you soppy git."

“I’m not sure you do, actually.” Thorin rolled forward slightly so he could lay a lingering kiss on Bilbo’s shoulder. “ _Everything_ about you, from the way you fuss over your tea to the way you tilt your head back when you laugh, even when you call me an idiot... all of it I adore, ghivashel."

Bilbo rolled around in Thorin’s arms, taking in the genuine look on his face. “What does _giver-shell_ mean? Is that Ereborean?"

“Ghivashel.” Thorin paused, twirling one of Bilbo’s curls around his finger. "Yes, it means treasure of all treasures."

The Hobbit was silent for a little while, staring at Thorin’s chest while he mulled something over. A grin blossomed on his face, and he peered up at the politician cheekily. “Well, I _suppose_ that’s better than babe."

Thorin chuckled then reached over him to turn off the light and lay back down, pulling Bilbo against his chest. “Goodnight."

He smiled against Thorin’s warm chest. “Goodnight."

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLD ONTO YOUR BUTT CHEEKS LADIES AND GENTS, WE'RE FINALLY GOING TO EREBOR.  
> It only took me... 100k to get there *slaps face*
> 
> But yeah. Okay. That happened. Phew.  
> I might need to go take a long cold shower...
> 
> And in case you're wondering, like the pic I posted at the end of chapter one, Bilbo and Thorin's cottages are those super oldschool ones that are connected/side by side. So its literally a door between them, not a passageway or anything.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Amazing Beta who left the most hilarious notes on the last chunk of this chapter I have ever seen: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	16. Saved in a Flash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Bilbo wake up,  
> Nori provides some proper transport,  
> And the Bumbling Thugs Three pay a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill.

Thorin's eyes burst open as he ripped the duvet off himself and sat up in bed, panting heavily, as he wiped the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand.

Nightmares again. Great.

He got his breathing under control, grounded himself and looked down at his right, then let out a relieved sigh. Bilbo was right there, lowly lit by the street light that peeked out from under the curtains, and was curled up against Thorin's side with his face smooshed against the bare skin of his ribs, looking thoroughly out for the count.

Thorin let out an amused chuckle and shuffled back downwards so he was lying on his back next to the Hobbit, and smiled to himself as he felt Bilbo instinctually curl tighter around him in his sleep; the shorter man letting out a satisfied hum against Thorin's shoulder when he was comfy once more.

The whole experience was nauseatingly adorable, and Thorin couldn't be more pleased with the whole situation. There he was, snug and in bed, with a gorgeous and very naked man wrapped around himself. Thorin smirked. Well, he may as well make use of the time they had together and not spend it _all_ unconscious, who knew when they'd be alone again...

"Good evening." He huskily whispered into Bilbo's ear, voice rough and low from sleep. 

Bilbo let out a pleased hum and wriggled closer, wrapped an arm around Thorin's chest and released a satisfied sigh when he hooked his leg over the politician's hip and felt the expanse of warm skin against him. "'Mornin." He breathily replied, ending the response with a long yawn.

"Well, aren't you lovely when you wake up." Thorin pulled him closer and placed a heavy kiss in the riot of auburn curls, arm stroking up and down the Hobbit's back. "Did you sleep well?"

"Very well." Bilbo lazily rubbed his half-hard prick against Thorin's side, smiling against his furred chest as he felt Thorin take in a sharp breath. “I haven’t slept that deeply in a while, you had me well and truly exhausted after last night's -well-  _this morning's_  round." 

Thorin's hand slipped down and pinched Bilbo's arse cheekily before grabbing it, grinning as Bilbo released an offended yelp. “Well... after all that sleep, I'm more than happy to go again." 

"Do we have time?" Bilbo peeled one eye open and looked across the room to the curtained windows. "It's already dark, do we have to leave soon?"

He picked up his iPhone from the bedside table and grunted at the sudden bright light when he unlocked it; Thorin checked the time, read a new message from Balin, then locked it and put it back down. "He says we have another hour, and seems to be under the impression that we needed extra sleep."

“Sleep can wait.” The Hobbit purred as he rolled his hips once more, then manhandled Thorin’s hip so he was also on his side, the two ending up facing each other with their legs entangled, and pulled him close for a lazy kiss. “We can get a _lot_ done in an hour.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Thorin replied roughly, eyes half-lidded from a culmination of sleepiness and arousal. 

The smile Bilbo directed up at him was positively filthy. “Well… I’m quite interested in _this_.” He reached forward and ran his fingertips teasingly up and down Thorin’s cock, which made the politician do a full body shudder.

“Oh are you now?” He replied facetiously, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?"

Bilbo halted his feather light touches and directed an unimpressed eye roll up at him. “I’d be even _more_ interested if you ever decided to touch me as well.” He taunted with a wry grin.

“What, like this?” He drawled casually as he reached down and took Bilbo in hand, smirking as he watched the shorter man close his eyes and roll his hips up into Thorin's fist. 

“Much better, yes.” Bilbo muttered under his breath, briefly forgetting the politician's cock his hand, all of his attention diverted to the new sensation of Thorin’s rough palm around himself. 

Thorin licked his lips and pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s as he started to pump his prick in earnest, loving every sound the shorter man made. “What do you want, Bilbo?"

“ _This._ ” Bilbo whispered breathily as he tilted his head and joined their lips, then started licking into Thorin’s mouth with fervour as he started to toy with his impressive length once more, smiling against his lips as Thorin released a broken groan. He snaked his free hand up and around Thorin’s neck, pulling him close, and started rocking his hips forward and back so that their pricks rubbed against each other now and again.

“Wait, I have an idea.” The politician didn’t wait for a response as he swatted Bilbo’s hand away and closed his fist around both of them, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he felt the skin of their silken pricks brush against each other.

Both of his hands now free, Bilbo reached up and gripped Thorin’s shoulders, nails digging into the hot skin. “Christ.” 

“God, you feel good.” Thorin grunted as he stared down at the mesmerising view of them both sliding against each other. 

Desperately needing _more_ , Bilbo pressed against Thorin’s chest, rolled them over so he straddled the politician’s thick thighs, and grabbed both of Thorin’s hands so he gripped them both once more. “Here, you hold us, and I’ll-“ He broke off with a strangled sound as he thrusted up into Thorin’s fist, fingers digging into the muscled chest below him as he pushed himself up. “Oh my fucking God _yes_."

Thorin worked his hands to the offbeat of Bilbo’s thrusts, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, both of their panting and the sound of skin against skin the only sound in the room. “How does it feel, Bilbo?” He bucked his hips upward, matching the shorter man’s thrust, and lifted the Hobbit up off the bed momentarily. “When you fuck into my fist with your dick pressed against mine, how does it feel?"

“ _Fuck_.” Bilbo swore, swallowing dryly as he doubled the speed of his hips. “It feels _so good_ , Thorin. It’s amazing."

“Do you know how much I want you, Bilbo?” He moaned raggedly, panting increasing in volume. “How everything you do drives me mad?"

Bilbo bit his lip, whining at the back of his throat as he started to feel his orgasm build. “Tell me."

He chuckled darkly. “Ever since I laid eyes on you in that damn plane, fussing about with your spilled drink, I knew I wanted you.” One of Thorin’s hands let go of them for a second as he used it to haul himself up, Bilbo still in his lap, so he could sit upright. “You with your cardigans and your curly hair, I knew that under all of that you would be an incredible shag.” 

“ _G-God_.” Bilbo stuttered as Thorin started pumping at them both with a renewed intensity, and rested his head against Thorin’s shoulder as he breathed raggedly and wrapped his arms around the politician’s neck. 

“I want to see your face when you come, want to taste it on your breath as you fall apart."

“Oh shit.” He whined, slamming his eyes shut. “Oh _so close_ , oh."

“Let me see you.” 

He leaned back, his hands remaining on Thorin’s shoulders as his mouth hung open, hips snapping up and down in staccato strokes. 

“God, you’re gorgeous when you’re like this. All flustered just from my hands on your prick.” He moaned, mouth a mere inch away from Bilbo’s. 

Bilbo hissed as he curled his upper lip and came hard over both of them, Thorin gazing up at him with wonder momentarily before he leant forwards and mashed their lips together in a frenzied kiss, his hands still pumping Bilbo through the end of his orgasm as he came to his own completion only seconds after.

“ _Bilbo_.” He mumbled against the Hobbit’s lips as he spilled between their chests, peppering kisses all over Bilbo’s face.

The Hobbit chuckled brightly and flopped lazily onto his back, panting heavily, a stupid smile on his face. “Christ, how the hell is _everything_ so good with you?” He let out a breathy bark of laughter, wiping his sweaty curls away from his face.

Choosing to use his actions as a reply instead of words, Thorin ignored the streaks of drying come on his torso and propped himself up by his right elbow at Bilbo’s side as he leant down and joined their lips in a bruising kiss that left both of them breathing even louder afterwards. “Because you’re _very_ talented-“ Thorin paused to run his free hand up and down Bilbo’s side “-and positively breathtaking.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Not this shit again."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, his hand pausing mid-stroke. “Yes, _this shit again_. And I’ll repeat it until it gets into that gorgeous head of yours."

“Spectacular. I look forward to ignoring you.” 

“Bilbo…” Thorin shook his head, and ran his thumb along Bilbo’s cheek. “Why do you have to fight me on this?"

He let out a huff of air through his nose, avoiding Thorin’s gaze. “I’m just not used to being complimented all the time, alright? Its… weird."

The frustration of Bilbo’s averted eyes becoming too much, Thorin decided a more direct approach was needed and rolled over so he was on top of the shorter man, ignoring his indignant squeals. "You'd better get used to it, ghivashel." He leant down and kissed Bilbo tenderly. "And it's not weird, it's _right_."

He huffed, rolling his eyes. "Fine."

Thorin frowned down at him, and nosed against Bilbo's throat, enjoying the soft sigh the man released. "Why can't you stop being such a stick in the mud and let me lavish you with affection, hmm?" 

"You soppy git."

" _Your_ soppy git." He froze, realising what he had just said, then slowly raised himself up on his forearms so he could meet Bilbo's eye. "Tell me if I'm getting ahead of myself?"

He let out an amused snort and rolled his eyes. "Like I have the time in the day to see someone on the side? Ridiculous." Bilbo reached one hand up to cup the side of the politician's face. " _Yours_ sounds quite fine to me." He looked down at the sticky mess now spread over both of their chests and winced. "And not that this isn't a lovely moment we're having, but I'd much rather share it in the shower."

Thorin's soft smile turned positively predatory. "Already keen for a round two? And you're the one who says _I'm_ insatiable." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, looking utterly ridiculous. 

Bilbo swatted his arm playfully. "I'm sweaty and sticky, shove off so I can go shower!"

"Sorry, can't. Too comfortable."  Thorin replied nonchalantly as he let his arms give out from under him and landed heavily on Bilbo; making the shorter man release a wheezy _oof!_

"Thorin!" Bilbo howled, hands slapping noisily against the politician's broad shoulders. "This is so fucking disgusting, _please!_ I can feel it drying on my chest!"

Thoroughly entertained by Bilbo's indignant protests, Thorin didn't move from where he was but started peppering kisses all over the shorter man's face and neck, only making him fuss all the louder. 

"You bloody nuisance!" Bilbo stopped clawing at his shoulders and cupped the sides of his face, stilling his shower of kisses. "Shower. Now." He commanded with as much authority as he could muster with a ridiculously attractive naked man wriggling around on top of him.

Thorin laughed softly. "Fine, shower." He huffed theatrically and rolled off Bilbo and up out of bed, stretching once he was upright. 

" _God_." He whispered under his breath, taking in the view of Thorin's toned muscles rippling and flexing as the politician reached up and ran his fingers through his dark hair. 

He smirked down at Bilbo. "Enjoying the view? I thought you said you wanted a shower?"

"Right. Shower." Bilbo slowly tore his eyes away from his torso and sat up in bed, groaning as he became vertical. "Come on you git."

Thorin only laughed amusedly in response and took his hand, then pulled him up and across the room to the ensuite door, pausing briefly to fetch his toiletry bag. "I'll wash your back?"

"That sounds heavenly." Bilbo directed a bright smile up at him then entered the gaudy violet bathroom, Thorin trailing close behind. He turned on the shower cautiously, staying out of the stream, and once it was perfect he ducked under and released an obscene moan, rubbing away the sticky mess on his chest. " _Christ_ , that's good."

"A little room would be nice." Thorin gently pushed Bilbo further into the shower recess and followed after, closing the lime green shower curtain behind them. 

It was an awfully small space but the couple made do, both of them leaving lingering kisses on each other's shoulders, chests and whatever skin they could reach as they washed each other slowly. The entire experience was intimate and relaxed, even though at one point Bilbo had gone to wash Thorin's chest and had howled _"Oh my fucking God it's caked in your chest hairs, oh God!"_

Once the couple were clean and dry they returned to the bedroom, in no rush at all to get dressed, so both slipped naked into the unused bed and continued kissing each other thoroughly and lazily; still basking in the afterglow of their recent orgasm.

Rudely interrupting the cosy atmosphere, Bilbo's phone started ringing loudly on the bedside table, making him release an irritated groan. "Piss off, whoever you are." He mumbled against Thorin's lips, not breaking contact even though the ringtone continued.

After the phone silenced it started ringing again only moments after. "Oh for fucks sake-" He rolled over and accepted the call, scowling darkly. "- _What?_ "

"Oh thank God, you're alright." Drogo's worried voice answered over the phone, and let out a ragged sigh. "We thought you were _dead_."

Bilbo pulled himself upright, his haziness dispelling instantly after hearing his cousin's frantic voice. "Drogo, what the hell is going on?"

"The Teahouse, Bilbo... It's gone."

"Gone?" He blinked slowly, trying to decipher what exactly was going on. "What do you mean _gone_?"

Drogo cleared his throat. "There was a fire last night, nothing in there survived." He let out a shaky breath. "And then you weren't home and your cottage was trashed and we had no idea if you'd, I don't know, been kidnapped and burnt alive or something terrible."

"I'm safe, don't worry about me, really." He looked to Thorin at his side, who was now also sitting up, a worried look on his face. "I've just gone off on a spontaneous..." Bilbo shot a questioning look at Thorin, who shook his head solemnly in response. "... Holiday. Yeah. Just needed to get away for a few days."

"That is utter horse shit, and you know it." His voice lowered to a whisper. "You're in trouble, aren't you? Where are you?"

Bilbo glanced over at Thorin again, met with another shake of his head. "Uhh... I'm fine, really. Just, you know, on the road."

"Well if it's that bad that you can't tell me where you are, then it must be pretty bloody bad." 

He sighed tiredly. “It’s fine… I’m safe."

“You’re sure?” Drogo asked incredulously.

“Yeah mate, I’m in good hands.” He shot a small smile over to Thorin. “But, uh, any chance you could throw out everything in my fridge and look after Myrtle till I get back?"

Drogo let out an amused huff. “Of course, you’re family.” He paused, his tone turned serious. “You _are_ coming back, aren’t you?"

“Of course I am, you won’t get rid of me so easily.” Bilbo teased, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair.

His cousin cleared his throat pointedly. “Don’t joke, Bilbo. This is serious."

He released a pained breath. “Yeah I know… I’ll be back as soon as I can, tell Myrtle I say hi?"

“Sure, Bilbo.” 

“And Drogo?"

“Yeah?"

“Just tell everyone I’ve gone on an abrupt trip, since the Teahouse burned down and all, something like a spa week or some such nonsense."

“Whatever you want Bilbo, just stay safe."

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’ll try my hardest."

“Good… I suppose that’s the best I can ask for.” Drogo sounded utterly drained, making Bilbo wince.

Bilbo looked over to Thorin, who had pulled himself out of bed and had started getting dressed. “Well… I should go. Try not to worry the missus, yeah?"

Drogo laughed dryly. “You know how she is, if I even _think_ about lying to her, she’ll know."

“Of course.” He exhaled raggedly. “Well… I’ll talk to you soon, hopefully."

“Don’t get into too much trouble."

“Oh Drogo, I think I might already be.” Bilbo mumbled whilst gazing at the half-naked man standing at the end of his bed.

 

\---

 

Trailing after Thorin, Bilbo walked out the front door with his bag slung diagonally over his shoulder and let out an appreciative whistle. In front of him were four sleek black Jags in a row, Dwalin leaning casually against the car at the front of the line, picking at the dirt under his fingernails.

“Wow, tinted windows. How subtle.” He commented sarcastically, earning himself an amused huff from the stoic man.

“It’s so overt, it’s covert."

Bilbo let out a surprised bark of laughter. “Did you just fucking quote _Sherlock Holmes?_ Did that really just happen?” He grinned up at Thorin, ignoring the exasperated sigh Dwalin released.

“He likes his action films.” Thorin shrugged nonchalantly down at him, then turned to Dwalin. “We leaving?"

Dwalin nodded. “Five minutes, you two are with Balin and me.” 

“Perfect.” Thorin opened the rear door and gestured for Bilbo to climb in. “We may as well get comfortable."

The head of security released a sly snort, which the couple chose to ignore, Bilbo only rolling his eyes in response as he slid into the backseat, Thorin following moments after.

He haphazardly threw his bag at his feet and shuffled around on the leather seat, trying to find the most comfortable position. “Well, at least the transport is better this time round. If we’re running, we may as well do it with style.” Bilbo shrugged as he did up his seatbelt.

Balin opened the front passenger door and sat himself down, briefly shooting a warm smile at them both. “Well, Mister Baggins, we aren’t exactly _running_."

Bilbo looked up at Thorin questioningly, then back at Balin. “And what do you mean by that exactly."

“Have you ever heard of the phrase ' _the best defence is a good offence'?_ "

The Hobbit groaned. “I thought we were going to lay low till this all blew over?"

“Not _exactly_.” Balin looked in the rear vision mirror to meet Bilbo’s eye and winked. “We’ve decided it’s in our best interests to go straight to Erebor and deal with this at once."

“And how the hell do I fall into this plan, hmm?” He replied dryly, thoroughly unimpressed.

The campaign manager chuckled good-naturedly in response. “We'll work that out later, since we can only travel on side roads in the middle of the night we probably won’t reach Erebor for another two days, three days at most."

“Well, that just fills me to the brim with confidence.” 

Before Bilbo could have an all-out sass-attack on the occupants of the car, Dwalin slid into the drivers seat and closed the door quietly behind him, dispelling the tense atmosphere. “We’re leaving."

Thorin nodded. “Who’s bringing up the rear?"

“Nori and Bofur, they’ll follow at a safe pace so they don't attract too much attention.” Dwalin responded gruffly as he turned the key in the ignition, the engine spurring into action.

“Good, those two always work well together.” The politician slung one arm over the backseat rest casually and stretched his legs out before him, then turned to offer a soft smile to Bilbo. “We’ll be driving for a few hours, so I suggest either reading or having a nap."

Bilbo leant forward to fossick through his bag and retrieved a large knitted grey beanie, then sat back and pulled it over his head so it covered his eyes, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat. “I’m having a nap and ignoring you three, don’t even _think_ of waking me up."

“I wouldn’t dream of it, I know what you’re capable of when you’re rudely awoken.” Thorin replied cheekily as he unclipped his seatbelt, slid over to the middle seat, then buckled himself up once more and pulled Bilbo to his chest. “I’ll wake you up when we’re about to reach our next stop."

He hummed in agreement as he buried his head under Thorin’s chin. “Night."

Thorin pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and pulled his arm tighter around the shorter man. “Night."

 

\---

 

Bilbo woke up slowly, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. Pleased that his beanie was still over his eyes, and he was able to see what was going on in the dimly lit car, Bilbo looked around and listened to what the three other men were hurriedly whispering about.

“It’s been nearly an hour, Thorin, I don’t think that sedan has stayed behind because he’s going the same way.” Balin muttered softly, twisting his torso so he could meet Thorin’s eye.

Thorin cursed under his breath. “Dwalin, what do you think?"

“Call Nori, if anyone knows what’s going on, it’s him."

Balin grunted in agreement and pulled his phone out, selected Nori’s name and held the phone against his ear. “Laddie, are we expecting company?"

On the other end of the call, Nori swore rather colourfully. “Bastards. I think it’s those three heavies that were guarding the scientists last week."

“How delightful. Keep an eye on them, we’ll probably be making some sudden turns soon."

“Got it. Tell Dwalin not to do anything too evasive, there _are_ three of us following."

He laughed under his breath. “You and I both know when it comes to driving, there’s little I can say that will change my brother’s mind."

Nori harrumphed. “Fine. But no jumps or ramps this time, these Jags are borrowed from a mate who I would like to do business with again."

“Like I said, I can’t take any promises."

“Great.” Nori ended the call, sighing defeatedly.

Balin slid the phone in his pocket and turned to address the car. “Laddie I know you’re not sleeping anymore, so you may as well sit up and join in on the conversation."

“Right.” Bilbo responded curtly, and pushed the beanie away from his eyes. “What the hell is going on?"

“We’re being followed, as I assume you’ve already gathered.” 

Thorin’s arm tightened around Bilbo’s shoulders instinctually. “Plan?” He asked gruffly, nodding at Dwalin.

“Hold onto something.” Dwalin replied matter-of-factly as he ripped the steering wheel to the left, making a last minute turn, tyres screeching in protest on the wet bitumen.

“Fucking hell!” Bilbo exclaimed, knuckles whitening as he gripped the door and Thorin’s knee in each hand.

Dwalin chuckled darkly under his breath and accelerated, checking the rear view mirror now and again to ensure the other three Jags were still trailing him. “Going right.” He casually warned as he spun the wheel suddenly again, grinning widely as he heard Bilbo release a loud _oof!_ as Thorin slid and pushed him against the door.

“You bastard, you’re enjoying this.” Bilbo chided as he pushed against Thorin so he wasn’t gasping for air, the politician muttering apologies under his breath.

The head of security only winked at him in the rear vision mirror and accelerated again, the engine roaring in his ears. “Balin, get Nori on speakerphone.” His brother nodded did as asked, holding the phone up so Dwalin could talk as needed. “Nori, we need somewhere to hide, what have you got for me?"

Frantic typing sounded on the other end of the call. “There’s a construction site a mile ahead, should be empty, work has been suspended till the rain stops."

“Great, tell the others to make for it as well, we should split up and shake off our new friends."

“I’ll go call Dori and Gloin now, see you in a few."

“Bye."

Balin rang off and tossed his phone in his lap, then turned around to look at Bilbo. “Laddie, things might get a little… rough. I suggest perhaps lying down in your seat till we get to cover."

“A little rough? What the hell do you mean _a little rough?_ ” Bilbo yelped, eyes widening.

Thorin put a placating hand on Bilbo’s knee. “Please, Bilbo? Just do as he says.” Ignoring Bilbo’s protests, Thorin gently pushed the Hobbit down so that he was hugging his knees, and leant forward so his head was between the front two seats. “Dwalin, do what you have to do."

His grin darkened. “With pleasure."

Dwalin started accelerating with renewed intensity, checking his mirrors when he could to see the following three Jags had all turned down side streets; but despite all this their pursuers remained hot on their tail and speed up in turn. The Jag shot through a red light, narrowly missing a truck and swerved out of the way, the car behind manoeuvring around the stray vehicle as well.

“Fuck, they’re good.” Dwalin muttered under his breath in frustration as he went up another gear, pushing the car faster and faster. At a moments notice, he yanked up the handbrake whilst turning the wheel, skidded to the left and barrelled down a narrow alleyway, leaving a pungent cloud of smoke in their wake as he changed gears so rapidly that the car’s occupants all rocked forward in synch.

The car behind only accelerated in response, the silhouettes of three bulky figures coming into view in the rear vision mirror. The front passenger rolled down his window, and Thorin gulped audibly.

“Everybody down!” Thorin bellowed a split second before bullets started flying at them, one grazing the driver’s side of the car, another close behind shattering the right mirror.

“Fucking _guns_ , Thorin! Are you fucking serious!” Bilbo howled, pulling Thorin down so they were squished against each other.

“Shut up and keep your head down.” He snapped, putting an arm over Bilbo’s head to push him even further towards his feet.

“Nearly there, just hold on.” Dwalin grunted as he did another handbrake turn around a corner, continuing to push the car faster as he hunched down as low as he could, narrowly missing a bullet that flew through the windscreen an inch above his head.

The tyres screeched piercingly as Dwalin made a sharp turn to their left, engine revs echoing noisily around the tight alleyway, both sides of the car boxed in by towering brick fences. He swerved the car erratically, trying to dodge as many bullets as he could, their destination finally in sight, its yellow-taped entrance closing in.

“Hold on."

And that was the only warning they received as the Jag hit the front wire fence at over ninety miles an hour, tearing the gate off the hinges, a strip of hazard tape wrapping itself around the car as it burst into the construction site. A brick wall materialised in front of them with only a split second available to avoid it, so Dwalin spun the wheel all the way to the right, drifting around the structure on the muddy ground as behind them they heard the resounding _smash!_ of their pursuers colliding with said wall at top speed.

“Holy shit!” Bilbo yelled, muffled by his knees pressing against his chest.

“Stay down, we’re not safe just yet.” Dwalin scolded as he hauled the car into the belly of the skeleton of a multi-storey car park, and accelerated up a ramp to hide behind a cement truck. He killed the engine and turned the lights off, looking behind him to ensure that they weren’t followed.

Bilbo shrugged off Thorin’s arm and sat up, panting loudly. “A little _rough_ , Balin? A little _fucking rough?_ "

“Now, Bilbo-"

“-Whatever you’re going to say, I do _not_ want to hear it.” He glared daggers at Thorin as the politician slowly sat up. “ _Guns_ , Thorin. I think you might have forgotten to mention there were going to be _bloody guns_."

He reached forward to put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, which the Hobbit instantly shrugged off. “I had no idea they would open fire in public, Bilbo."

“But you knew they would be armed!” Bilbo spluttered, eyes widening.

Thorin nodded sombrely. “It was highly likely, yes."

“Fucking _hell_.” Bilbo pulled at the door handle in frustration, the door not budging an inch. “Dwalin, you better let me out of this car right bloody now, I swear to God."

Dwalin looked in the mirror at him questioningly. “Thorin?-"

“ _Now, Dwalin!_ ” Bilbo barked, repetitively pulling at the door handle.

The politician sighed resolutely. “Let him go."

Bilbo tore the door open, stumbled out of the car and took in a harsh breath of air, both hands braced on his knees as he hunched forward. “ _Christ_."

“Bilbo, can you please-"

The Hobbit spun around on the spot, shooting Thorin a silencing glare. “-I’m going to go for a walk, don’t follow me."

“I don’t think that’s such a-"

“-Don’t. Follow.” He hissed with an air of finality as he stood up straight. “I’m just going for a piss, I’ll be back in a moment.” Bilbo turned slammed the rear passenger door and walked away from the car, taking in ragged breaths. 

He slowly made his way behind a wall so the Jag was out of sight, and padded across the cavernous space using his phone as a torch, breathing in the smell of rain and newly laid cement, trying to focus on that instead of his heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. “Oh my God, I could have just _died_.” Bilbo muttered under his breath, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Needing to sit down and collect himself, he meandered over to the far side of the unfinished car park where a solitary fluorescent lamp was pointed at the ceiling, filling the site with a cold white light; and perched on the edge of a block of cement, unfazed by the prospect of dirtying his olive green trousers.

The Hobbit leant back against the wall and closed his eyes, the sound of pattering rain soothing his frayed nerves somewhat. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, you big clot.” He mumbled quietly, tucking his legs under himself. 

“A spot of trouble, I should wager.” Bilbo’s eyes burst open and he let out a high pitched yelp before a large bloodied hand clamped over his mouth.”Now, none of that. We don’t want your friends to come visiting before we’re ready for them.” The thug whispered menacingly, hand not moving from the Hobbit’s lips.

“What should we do with him?” The annoyingly high-pitched voice of the shortest thug, Bill, asked; holding one of his shoulders as red blossomed on his dove grey suit jacket. 

“Tom, you tie him up, and don’t forget a gag.” Bert responded darkly, arms crossed as he watched his companion keep his hand over Bilbo’s face as he pulled him upright from where he was sitting. “Bill, go make sure the coast is clear."

“Got it boss.” Bill nodded and scurried off, pulling his gun out of the back of his trousers with his good hand, his injured one hanging uselessly by his side.

Tom pulled Bilbo harshly over to the nearest column and slammed him against it, smirking as Bilbo winced from the harsh treatment. “A little help, boss?"

Bert grunted in response and slowly shuffled over, one leg dragging behind, and hissed with pain as he picked up a stray piece of rope from the ground as he closed in. “Take that ridiculous hat off him and shove it in his mouth, will you?” He laughed darkly as Bilbo started wriggling and yelping in protest, Tom forcing his mouth open and shoving the woollen item in as soon as he could, then started tying the Hobbit to the pole behind him while Tom held him in place. 

Bilbo watched the two with wide, panicked eyes as he tried to break free or yell loud enough for Thorin to hear, but was only rewarded with an elbow to the gut, making him double over and pant loudly out of his nose.

“There’ll be none of that, you oversized squirrel.” Tom growled, pressing a heavy hand against Bilbo’s chest as Bert did the final knots on the rope, eliciting a pained wince from Bilbo as he tied the last knot so tightly around the Hobbit's ribs that it made his eyes water.

“Much better.” Bert clapped his hands together, taking a step back to appreciate his work. ”Go check on Bill, see what’s taking so long."

The thug nodded and headed off in Bill's direction, wiping a trickle of blood away from his forehead with the back of his hand, completely unfazed by his recent head wound. 

Once they were alone, Bert pulled a battered plastic milk crate over and hissed with pain as he sat down across from him. “You've been a lot of trouble to find, nearly more trouble than you’ve been worth.” He muttered darkly, rubbing at a bloodied patch on his trouser leg. “When we hit that fucking brick wall we nearly lost Tom, had to slap him hard a few times to wake him up. You and your lot will pay for that."

The Hobbit fought against his confines to no avail, only making the thug chuckle dryly up at him. 

“There’s no use trying to get out, mate. Tied those knots well and good, I did."

“Boss!” The shrill voice of Bill rang out, making them both look up. “Look what we found!"

Bilbo froze as his gaze met Thorin’s; the politician had clearly fought with the two before being dragged over, his bottom lip was split and his left cheekbone an angry red, an impressive bruise already forming, the man looking like he had been pistol-whipped by Tom’s gun.

“Bilbo! Are y-you-“ Thorin’s slurred sentence was cut short with a grunt as Tom shoved him forward unceremoniously, one firm arm on his shoulder as his free hand poked his gun painfully in Thorin’s back. “-are you hurt?"

He shook his head frantically, more worried about Thorin’s dazed state than his own, for the politician was starting to sag in the thug’s grip and looked like he would slip to the ground if the man decided to let go.

Bert looked at the two in turn, a wide smirk appearing on his face. “Tie our new guest next to his pretty girlfriend, will you two?"

“Gladly.” Tom replied as he hauled Thorin forward, spun him round, and smashed his back against the hard cement. “Bill? Hold our friend in place while I tie him up, there’s a good lad?"

Using his uninjured arm, Bill pressed his forearm across Thorin’s chest, snarling down at him. “If my arm doesn’t get better soon, you're gonna pay for it."

“I'd like to see you try.” Completely unfazed by the threat, Thorin smirked and spat right in the thug's face.

“You fucking-“ Bill slid his arm up from Thorin’s chest and pressed it heavily against his throat, grinning down at the politician as he started spluttering and wheezing.

“Hey!” Bert pulled himself up and yanked Bill backwards by the collar of his shirt so his grip lessened on the politician’s throat. “Smaug wants these two alive, you idiot. Stop messing about.” 

Bill just huffed and went back to pressing against Thorin’s chest, squinting down at him menacingly. “Fine."

Once Thorin was tied in place, all three of them walked over and stood a few paces away, Bert crossing his arms as he looked them both over. “Tom, stop Bill's bleeding, will you? I don’t need him fainting on the job."

“Yes boss.” Tom pulled his companion’s suit jacket off, revealing the two holstered pistols under each arm and another gun tucked into the back of his trousers. He tied the fabric around Bill's left arm, now drenched with blood, making the man wince when he pulled the makeshift bandage tight.

“Right. So. Where are the others?"

“No idea.” Bill shrugged, poking at his wounded arm curiously.

Bert reached forward and slapped him right on the injury, ignoring his howl of pain. “Stop your griping, you’re on the clock. Where are they?"

“I said I don’t know!” He took a step back, covering his damaged arm protectively.

“We had a good look around, there was nothing.” Tom replied, fingers gingerly poking around his hairline to gauge just how bad his wound was.

Their leader sighed. “You two are fucking useless, you are.” He rolled his eyes and scuffled over to Thorin and Bilbo, slowly unsheathing a rather nasty looking knife from its place on his belt. “I don’t want to use this you two, but I will if I don’t get some answers soon."

Bilbo made a frantic noise at the back of his throat and pressed himself flat against the pillar behind him, trying with all his might to get as far away from the glinting blade as possible. Noticing how panicked the Hobbit was getting, Thorin grunted quietly under his breath as he painfully slid his arm against the concrete and laced his fingers with Bilbo’s, giving his hand what he hoped was a comforting squeeze.

“Aww, how lovely.” Tom cooed teasingly, sitting himself down on the abandoned milk crate. “They’re holding hands."

Bill laughed dryly. “Now they can feel each other tense up when you knife them, boss."

“That _is_ a good point.” Bert pointed the blade at both of the captives in turn, humming thoughtfully. “Now, who to slice first?"

“Me, I’m the one Smaug is interested in.” Thorin met the thug’s eye challengingly, raising his chin. “Come on then, make yourself feel like more of a man, harm us while we’re utterly defenceless."

Bert chuckled darkly, shaking his head, and leant forward as he pressed the tip of the blade against Thorin’s jugular. “Now, if you think those fancy mind games of yours are going to work on me, you’ve got another thing coming. You see, the thing is… I lied earlier, I quite enjoy this part of my job.” He ran the knife down Thorin’s throat slowly, only _just_ piercing the skin, releasing a solitary bead of blood. “I started out as a butcher, I did, but it just wasn’t _quite_ enough."

Bilbo started howling with protest, the sounds muffled by the woollen gag, but froze as he looked behind the three thugs and caught the sight of Gandalf crouched behind a cement block in the background. Catching Bilbo’s eye, Gandalf raised a finger to his lips and gestured to the Canon camera round his neck, a bulky flash attached to the camera body.

Completely unaware to what was taking place behind him, Bert tilted his head to one side and ran his finger down the shallow incision on Thorin’s throat, grinning as he heard the politician hiss from the pain. “But what I’m really interested in is how much it will take to make you squeal.” He smirked. “The tip of my knife will feel nice and sharp under your fingernails, perhaps I’ll start with that?"

Gandalf carefully stood and started making his way closer, but froze as he accidentally kicked a stray block of cement and it skittered over, landing just by Bill's ankle. 

“Wait a minute.” Bill whispered, turning his head slowly. “I think there’s something out there."

As far as Bilbo was concerned, at that moment, he had two choices. One: dangle there like a useless tit in the breeze and watch the scene unfold before him; and see Thorin tortured and Gandalf captured. Two: cause a distraction and let his old friend do whatever ridiculous thing it was that he was about to try out. Bilbo’s stomach sank. Oh yes, he knew exactly what he had to do.

Taking in a fortifying breath through his nose, Bilbo started fighting the rope around his chest and yelling frantically, making himself appear crazed and desperate, eyes wild and staring at Thorin’s still frame. 

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” Bert turned to face him, slightly taken aback by the intensity of Bilbo’s actions. “Pipe down, don’t make me do it for you."

Bilbo only increased his volume, ignoring Bert as his eyes remained transfixed on Thorin.

“No no no, this won’t do.” Bill hissed from behind Bert, his attention successfully diverted to the wriggling Hobbit. “Shut him up, we can’t let the others find us."

Using his free hand, Bert backhanded Bilbo suddenly and harshly, the force of the slap making the beanie fall right out of the Hobbit’s mouth. 

Bilbo grinned up at him mischievously, smacking his dry lips together audibly. “Big mistake, mate.” He took in a large breath and started wailing so loudly that it echoed about the cavernous space, but only had a few moments of victory before Bert had had enough and punched him square in the ribs, winding him so thoroughly that he started panting and gaping like a fish out of water.

“Bilbo!” Thorin howled, struggling against the rope so it pulled at his clothes and popped two shirt buttons. “You fucking arsehole, keep your hands off him!” 

Bert tutted mockingly and held the knife under Thorin’s throat once more, instantly silencing him. “You’ll keep your pie hole _shut_ if you know what’s good for you…” He smirked, then directed his eyes down at Bilbo “…and for him."

“You bastard.” He spat.

“Such _disrespect_.” He tutted once more, gaze focussing on the politician. “Someone needs to teach you some manners, I think."

A bright flash filled the room, making them all freeze in place, and a deep voice reverberated around them. “I should think it’s you that needs the etiquette lesson, Bert Stevenson."

“Hey! How the fuck do you know my name, where are you hiding?” Bert took a step back, blinking the stars away from his eyes as he tried to zone in on where the light had come from.

“No manners and _such_ a limited vocabulary.” Gandalf tutted, throwing his voice so it sounded like it was coming from behind Bilbo and Thorin. “You haven’t changed a bit."

Bill searched behind the pillar that Bilbo and Thorin were tied to, squinting into the darkness. “I think he’s here?"

“ _Wrong_ , my dear boy.” Gandalf’s voice rang out, this time to Bert’s right. “I must say, you three are making this _far_ too easy."

Tired with playing games, Bert reached forward and yanked on Bilbo’s hair to raise his head, and put the knife against the soft skin of his throat. “Come out and show yourself, or I’ll make this pretty boy bleed."

“Ah, I feared it would come to that. How very cliché of you.” Gandalf leapt forward, flashing his camera right in Bert’s eyes so he yelped, dropped the knife and took three steps back, covering his face with both hands.

“You _fucking_ -"

Gandalf pressed the cold tip of his semi-automatic pistol against Bert’s heart. “I don’t think that you should continue that sentence dear, do you?"

“Boss!” Bill and Tom howled in unison, both drawing their guns and pointing them at the elderly man, who only raised an eyebrow in response.

“Two against thirteen, I hardly see how that’s fair."

“ _Thirteen?_ ” Bert scoffed. “Pull the other one."

“Aye, thirteen.” Dwalin responded darkly as he emerged out of the shadows, the rest of the company in tow, each one of them with a gun or blade of some sort in their grasp. 

Bert visibly paled. “Ah. There you all are."

“Here we are indeed.” Gandalf added cheerily, nodding his head. “Now, if you’ll just be a dear and let Dwalin over there collect all of your weapons, we will be most obliged.” Bert stiffened and bent his knees slightly, looking like he was about to pounce, but Gandalf only clicked his tongue. “We’re going to let you all go, there’s no reason to go ahead and injure yourself and your men needlessly. Just let our man give you and your boys a cheeky pat down, take anything dangerous, and you can be on your way."

The thug pursed his lips, then drooped his shoulders. “Bill, Tom, let 'em take your toys."

“But boss-"

“Hey! Are you questioning my fucking decision?” He barked, turning his head to face them both. “Just _do it_."

They both groaned but nodded in agreement.

“Yes boss.” Bill muttered quietly.

“How lovely.” Gandalf remarked as he smiled at all three of them delightedly, like they had just accepted an invitation to afternoon tea. “Dwalin, if you would be so kind?"

“Gladly.” He sauntered forward, headed for Bert first, confiscated all his kit and then went on to Tom, then Bill.

Once all three of them were sufficiently disarmed, Gandalf lowered his gun and walked backwards away from Bert, charming smile still in place. “I’m going to assume that that wrecked car at the entrance was yours, so Dwalin and Bofur are going to walk you three out of here and down the street, just to make sure you don’t try anything ridiculous."

Bert pursed his lips as if he was about to challenge him, but held his tongue. “Sounds fair."

Gandalf clapped his hands together happily. “How excellent. Do have a lovely night boys, and perhaps it would be a good idea to visit a Hospital, hmm?"

The thugs only grumbled in response as Dwalin and Bofur walked forwards, gesturing with their guns for the three to lead the way.

“Not the most charismatic criminals I’ve ever met, I must say.” Gandalf shook his head, turning to look at Bilbo and Thorin, who were both watching him in utter disbelief. “What? Do I have something on my face?"

Still winded, Bilbo could only manage a strangled sounding laugh, relief flooding his veins. “F-Fucking hell you have good timing."

He swatted the compliment away, picked up the knife from the ground and started working at their restraints. “I would have preferred to get here sooner, but we had to all meet up before we could come fetch you."

“R-Right. Of course.” He replied breathily as the last piece of rope fell from around him and he took a wobbling step forward.

A split second later Thorin was released, the politician instantly reaching for Bilbo and pulling him into his arms. “Are you alright?” He mumbled worriedly into Bilbo’s curls, pulling him tighter.

“Shit, Thorin. C-Can’t breathe!” Bilbo slapped his hands away and took a step backwards, taking in a deep breath. “Still slightly winded."

“Sorry!” Thorin smiled apologetically. “But are you okay?"

“Okay?” He stood up straight, raising his eyebrows. “ _Okay?_ ” Bilbo’s voice heightened in volume, and he took a step forwards to poke accusingly at Thorin’s chest. “We get shot at, tied to a pillar and nearly tortured, and you ask if I’m _okay?_ "

Thorin winced. “It _has_ been an eventful night."

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot even higher up into his hairline. “ _Eventful?_ I’ll show you fucking eventful.” He reached up and slapped Thorin so hard across his face that it echoed around the concrete structure, their audience letting out a surprised  _oof!_ “I told you _so_ _long ago_ to tell me the truth, Thorin. _The truth_. Not _once_ did you mention anything about guns or torturing or bloody _high speed car chases_."

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, ignoring the sting of his cheek, and chose instead to stare at his feet. “I suppose I could have mentioned there might be a more dangerous element to this journey."

“Yeah, a heads up would have been nice.” Bilbo crossed his arms, his panting now under control and far less important than scolding the tall idiot in front of him. 

“I’m sorry."

“I beg your pardon, I think I missed that?” The Hobbit batted his eyelashes, taking a step forward, and tilted one ear towards him theatrically. “Did I just hear a half-hearted apology, or am I going to get something bloody genuine tonight?"

“I’m sorry, Bilbo! I-“ His voice faltered as he bowed his head. “I should have been more upfront with you… about everything"

Bilbo sighed and put his hand gently under Thorin’s chin, tilting his head up so he met his gaze, the Hobbit's voice returning to its normal volume. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

“Am I in trouble?"

He scoffed. “So much trouble, like you wouldn’t _believe_.” Bilbo lowered his fingertips so they gingerly brushed against Thorin’s split lip, and he winced apologetically when he saw the politician flinch. “But let’s get you patched up before I rip into you, how does that sound?"

“Perfectly acceptable.” He replied timidly.

“Brilliant.” Bilbo lowered his hands and laced his fingertips with Thorin’s, and walked them over to Oin, who was watching them expectedly. “Two patients, reporting for our checkup."

“Come on you two, let’s get you to my medical kit.” Oin shook his head as he shuffled off, pulling a torch out of his pocket.

Thorin took two steps and paused, then pulled Bilbo close for a chaste kiss. “You’re alright?” He murmured an inch away from the Hobbit’s lips.

“I’m alright."

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more action in this chapter, which was a fun change of pace.
> 
> Also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Cheeky Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	17. From Flames to Pitch Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group have a cheeky run-in with some unauthorised road workers,  
> Nori has another trick up his sleeve,  
> And Fili and Kili toss the Hobbit.

True to his headstrong nature, Thorin rolled his eyes and huffed under his breath continuously as Oin sat him down on the hood of one of the Jags and fussed over him whilst he tended to his wounds; Bilbo's glare holding him in pace as his eyes darted to the left when he briefly contemplated an escape route.

“You’ll sit there and take it, you stupid git.” Bilbo chided fondly, crossing his arms and offering him a lopsided grin.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. “Yes sir."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow slyly. “ _Sir?_ Hmm. I think I like the sound of that."

Ignoring them both, Oin continued on with the task at hand, now focussing his attention on dealing with Thorin’s split lip. “Stop talking, lad, I need to fix your damn lip."

Thorin only grunted in agreement and closed his lips as ordered. Fossicking through his medical kit, Oin retrieved some Steri-Strip medical tape to hold Thorin’s bottom lip together, then went on and applied it to the small yet rather painful cut.

Once done, Oin turned around and shot Bilbo a wry grin. “You’ll have to be a bit gentle with our Thorin here while he’s still healing, don’t get too carried away, eh?” He winked, grin widening as Bilbo’s cheeks reddened and he let out an indignant squawk.

“Get too _carried away!_ ” He spluttered, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you mean by that."

He chuckled, then turned back to address Thorin, who was still leaning against the hood of the car. “Doctor’s orders. Keep the kissing to a minimum if you can help it."

“We’ll try our very best, but I can’t make any promises.” Thorin replied cheekily, smirking at Bilbo over Oin's shoulder.

Bilbo let out another offended squawk. “ _Thorin!_ "

The politician shrugged nonchalantly and slowly pulled himself up and off the car. “They’re not blind, Bilbo, they know we’re not just… ' _friends'_.” He emphasised the last word whilst he raised both hands to casually form air quotes, looking positively ridiculous.

“Please, can the ground open up and swallow me whole, Christ almighty.” Bilbo muttered under his breath, the sound of his whinging muffled by his hands covering his blushing face.

Thorin laughed softly, took a step forward and peeled Bilbo’s hands away, smiling warmly when he met the Hobbit’s gaze. “There’ll be no disappearing tonight, not after that stunt you pulled earlier."

“Stunt that _I pulled_ , Thorin?” His eyebrows lifted and disappeared behind his curls, headed towards his hairline. “You’re the idiot with the split lip, _dear_."

“I suppose you _do_ have a point.” He leant down and kissed Bilbo ever so gently, wincing subtly as it stung his lip, and ignored the put-upon sigh Oin released behind them. “But you’ll stay close from now on, yes?"

Bilbo nodded. “Yes, you big git.” He pulled Thorin down for another chaste kiss, far softer than the first. “And just because I’m kissing you doesn’t mean that you've got out of being in trouble, I still have to come up with your punishment." 

He leant forward and nosed against the shell of Bilbo’s ear, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “I can think of plenty of things I can do to make it up to you."

“Hey!” Bilbo slapped his arm cheekily, taking a step back so he could look up at him. “Don’t think you can sweet talk me out of this, you’re in trouble."

Thorin let out a surprised bark of laughter, throwing his head back as he did so. When his eye’s met Bilbo’s gaze once more, they were twinkling with mirth. “Do with me as you must." 

“Thorin!” He slapped his arm playfully again. “I said no sweet talking!"

The politician only smiled all the brighter and pulled Bilbo close, tucking his curly head under his chin; the Hobbit nuzzling into Thorin's warmth happily as he released a satisfied sigh. “I can’t even begin to put into words how relieved I am that you’re alright, you really had me worried earlier."

“Shh.” Bilbo replied soothingly, patting a small hand against Thorin’s chest. “We’re both in one piece and still here, no need to go on about _what if’s_ and such."

He held Bilbo even tighter. “I know, but I can’t help wondering if you'd stayed home and-"

Bilbo pulled himself out of Thorin’s grip and shot him an unimpressed glare. “-If you even so much as _think_ about sending me back to Hobbiton, I’ll box you around your ears so hard that _you’ll_ be the one leaving."

“Bilbo, I-"

Dwalin interrupted with a loud cough, making them both spin around and scowl at the head of security, who only rolled his eyes in return. “Thorin, a moment? You’ll want to see this."

He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. “Dwalin, I’m sort of in the middle of something.” Thorin gestured to Bilbo at his side, and shot the Hobbit an apologetic smile. 

“I wouldn’t cut in if it wasn’t important, lad.” He crossed his arms and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Come on, while we’re still young."

“Sorry, I should go look.” Thorin offered to Bilbo with genuine remorse, furrowing his brow.

“It’s fine, we’ll finish this later.” He took a step forward and laced his fingers with Thorin’s. “So, where are we going?" 

Dwalin chuckled, uncrossing his arms and gesturing for them to follow. “We found the remains of those three idiots’s car, and trust me, it’s quite the hoard."

 

\---

 

Groaning loudly with protest, the boot of the smashed car opened under the magnitude of Dwalin’s brute force, and the group watching all took in a sharp breath.

“Oh. My. _God_.” Bofur whispered reverently under his breath as he took in the view before him.

Squashed into the battered boot of the car like sardines was a plethora of weapons and ammunition; ranging from some rather intimidating hunting knives and nondescript semi-automatic handguns up to a few terrifying looking submachine guns and even a handful of grenades. Whatever those three dangerous men were up to and had planned to do with Bilbo, it definitely wasn’t anything _good_.

Bilbo gulped audibly as he peered into the deadly treasure trove, wringing his hands. “Thats, ah, quite a lot of guns, isn’t it."

“My dear friend, don’t be so worried.” Gandalf chuckled brightly as he briskly sauntered forward, nodding at Dwalin as he came to stand beside the car boot. “They’re not going to do anything to you when they’re lying in here." 

“Yes I know that, it’s what happens when they’re in the wrong hands that I’m worried about.” He looked up at Thorin darkly. “You’re not going to _take_ anything, are you?"

“Just as a precaution, we won’t use these if we don’t have to.” Thorin replied as softly as he could, offering the shorter man a quick smile.

Bilbo crossed his arms. “I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you carrying a gun, Thorin."

Bofur chuckled, and pat Bilbo on the back companionably. “We’ve been packing the entire time, lad. Don’t forget, it’s one of the reasons you’re still in one piece."

“What?” He glared up at Thorin, who winced. “And when, pray tell, were you going to let it slip that there was a fucking gun hidden on you somewhere, hmm?"

“Bilbo, please.” Gandalf cut in, placatingly raising his hands. “There are dangerous men after us, it’s in our best interests to protect ourselves. Ah! speaking of which…” He turned and rummaged around in the car boot, then let out a pleased noise when he found what he was looking for and faced Bilbo, grinning happily down at him. “Here, this should be around your size.” 

A worn black leather sheath with a rather large hunting knife within was pushed into Bilbo’s hands, and all he could do was stare down at it, blinking slowly. “And… what exactly am I to do with this?"

Gandalf laughed softly. “Strap it to your belt, there’s a good chap. I’m hoping you won’t need it, but you’d best be prepared if you do."

He stared up at Gandalf, mouth comically opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Gandalf… this is a fucking _gigantic_ knife, I can’t carry this! I’ll look positively ridiculous!" 

The white-haired man shook his head, and nudged Bilbo’s hand down towards the Hobbit’s belt. “Don’t be a stick in the mud, dear, come on and fasten it to your belt, quick smart.” Bilbo just nodded numbly in response and buckled it on, resting it against his left hipbone. “There you are, I think you look very fine."

Bilbo snorted, rolling his eyes. “I look like a tit."

“No you don’t, stop being difficult.” His gaze shifted and met Thorin’s. “Something a little more exciting than a knife for you, I think.” Gandalf hummed merrily under his breath as he started loudly turning the car boot inside out, then released an appreciative _ah!_ when his fingertips curled around the black leather grip of a dangerous looking matte black submachine gun. “Perfect.” He lifted the SMG up and out of the boot with two hands, whistling appreciatively. “Now, I have seen this level of quality craftsmanship before, but not for some time. Here, tell me how it feels."

Thorin reverently took the weapon in two hands and experimentally lifted it up and down a few times, gauging the weight, and traced his fingertips down the matte black barrel. “This is no ordinary SMG, Thorin, this is definitely custom work."

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “This fine firearm was made by the revered Gondolin craftsmen, they’ve been making fine guns in Paris since before the revolution."

“It’s  _French!_ ” He looked down at the firearm with disgust, his hold on the SMG transforming from firm to gripping it gingerly, as if it was about to burn his skin. “Those...  _frogs_ made a gun of this high quality?"

“Enough! I’ll tolerate a lot of things from you, Thorin Durin, but I will not tolerate _blind_   _prejudice_.” He cleared his throat pointedly. “You could not wish for a finer firearm, I assure you."

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll use the damn thing.” 

“Now I don’t feel so put-upon with getting a knife.” Bilbo chuckled to himself, crossing his arms as he peered up at the gun curiously. “That thing looks bloody heavy."

"I'll manage." He replied gruffly as he slowly slung it over one shoulder with its soft leather strap.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, thoroughly unimpressed by Thorin's display. "How manly of you."

"You're giving him a run for his money, with that fine blade strapped to your hip." Bofur offered cheekily, elbowing him in his side. "Just remember to take it off when you get back to the Teahouse when this is all said and done, mind. You'll give your regulars a right fright."

He swallowed dryly, his gaze falling. "Well... That probably won't be a problem anymore." 

Bofur raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Go on."

"The teahouse, it's..." He cleared his throat, willing it into submission and mask the broken sound he had just unwillingly made. "Azog burnt it down. I-It's gone."

The small group around him all let out their own versions of offended and angered growls; Dwalin even going so far as to kick the side of the wrecked car, muttering ' _those bastards'_ under his breath.

Thorin only shuffled closer and put a warm hand at the small of Bilbo's back, remaining silent. 

"That fucking arse." Bofur spat, then grabbed Bilbo's shoulder. "We're going to make him pay for this, Bilbo. Nobody messes with one of ours." 

A small smile appeared on his face, but he released a defeated sigh. "Not that it's going to change anything." He brought his arms around himself, suddenly feeling the sharp chill of the night air. 

“Are you alright?” Bofur's tone turned serious, expression void of cheekiness.

Bilbo nodded numbly. “Sure, yeah. Fine." 

He raised a challenging eyebrow, but let it slide. This wasn’t the time or the place for the conversation, especially with such an audience. “We’ll chat later.” Bofur winked at him, and released his shoulder from his mittened grip.

“Alright lads, grab what you want, we should get moving. Can’t afford to stay in one place too long, no doubt Smaug’s bastards are on the move.” Dwalin grunted, only taking two semi-automatic pistols and a few magazines for himself, tossing them haphazardly into his duffel bag.

“As always you are filled with brilliant ideas, Dwalin.” Gandalf nodded, taking a similar-looking SMG to Thorin’s new toy, its only difference a larger grip and longer barrel. He smiled down at the weapon appreciably and muttered under his breath ' _oh yes, this will do just fine’,_ pocketing two magazines.

Thorin silently steered Bilbo back towards the car, the only sound in the cold night air their shoes against the mix of concrete and gravel; opened the door for him, closed it once the Hobbit was safely in, and slid in on his side of the Jag. Once inside, he shuffled across the backseat so his thigh was pressed flush against Bilbo’s, a reminder that he was still there. 

“Bilbo?"

He only hummed softly in answer, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the leather backrest.

“Can I do anything?"

Bilbo let out a ragged sigh. “Not really."

A few minutes of silence fell over the car, Thorin patiently waiting for him to say what he was trying to say; Bilbo’s eyes darting around under his eyelids as he pursed his lips and tried to find the words.

“It’s just…” Bilbo’s voice faltered, and he fisted his hands in his trousers frustration at his own weakness. “I thought I was fine, I really did, and then as soon as I had to _say_ what happened, I just fucking…” He let out a huff of air out of his nose, and he opened his eyes to meet the steely blue of Thorin’s.

No pity was there in Thorin's eyes, no judgement. Only quiet, patient affection.

Bilbo closed his eyes once more and opened one hand invitingly, and only a split second after Thorin entwined his larger hand with his, running one thumb slowly over the side of Bilbo’s smaller hand.

“It’s always the case with me.” The rumble of Thorin’s voice spoke, deepened by its near-whisper. “I try to hold in as much as I can, because that’s just how I deal with things... but as soon as someone asks if you’re alright or asks what happened, and you have to say it… it makes it _real_. It’s not just in your head anymore, it’s out there."

He leaned to his right, letting his head fall against Thorin’s shoulder. “What the hell am I going to do?"

Thorin untangled their fingers and wrapped his arm around Bilbo, bringing him in close. “We’ll work something out, don’t worry.” Bilbo released a sarcastic huff from his nose. “Don’t be like that, we will. Have a little faith."

“My bloody  _teahouse_ was burnt down, Thorin. My livelihood. Please excuse me if I’m a little out of fucking faith."

Ignoring Bilbo’s indignant tone, Thorin tilted his head and planted a lingering kiss against Bilbo’s curls and tightened his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. “You’re alive, you’re safe, and you’re with me. It’s not all _so_ bad."

Bilbo grumbled under his breath and tucked his head under Thorin’s chin. “Since when are you such a bloody optimist?"

“Since I nearly saw you tortured in front of me tonight, but instead have you mostly unscathed and safe in my arms."

He stilled. “Shit, that did happen tonight, didn’t it?"

“It did. You’ll excuse me if I’m a touch overly sentimental.” Thorin nuzzled into Bilbo’s unruly mop of curls, breathing in the fresh vanilla scent.

Bilbo closed his eyes, exhaustion creeping in after such an intense dose of adrenaline earlier. “Please, do _sentimental ahead_ , I’m not stopping you."

Thorin hummed contentedly in response, planting small kisses in Bilbo’s hair; and moved downward to land one at the shell of his ear, making the shorter man release a pleased sigh. A warm smile blossomed on his face at the sound, and Thorin pulled his free arm around Bilbo as well and started tracing circles on the shorter man’s upper arm.

“Mmm, ’s nice.” Bilbo mumbled against Thorin’s chest, the politicians ministrations turning his bones to jelly.

“Go to sleep, I’ll wake you when we get to our next stop."

“Mmm-hmm."

 

\---

 

“It’s just roadworks, Dwalin, see? Detour sign. Stop worrying."

Dwalin’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel. “I don’t like this, Thorin. Something feels off."

“You’re being paranoid."

“You pay me to be paranoid."

Bilbo let out a high pitched squeak as he stretched, slowly waking up. He rested his head against Thorin’s chest, pleased that he hadn’t moved, and blinked slowly around the car, sleep still fuzzing the edge of his grasp on reality. “Whats going on?" 

“Just a road closure, nothing to worry.” Thorin replied, moving one hand up his shoulders to tangle with Bilbo’s hair.

He leaned into the touch. “What’s got Dwalin’s pants all in a twist?"

“This doesn't feel right.” Dwalin replied gruffly, car moving at a near-galacial pace as they drove past a neon-vested road worker with a ‘SLOW’ sign.

“Seems fine to me.” Bilbo sat up straight and peered out of the window at the few road workers, most of them smoking and leaning against a white paddock fence. “And where the hell are we?"

“Peak District, keep it down.” He indicated left and began to follow the detour signage, tyres crunching on the gravel as they left the smooth bitumen of the main road. 

“What the hell are we doing here?"

Dwalin rolled his eyes. “Can’t take the M6, too busy. Need to stay off the main roads."

“Yes, and a group of Jaguars with tinted windows, driving around the countryside is just  _so subtle_.” Bilbo responded wryly, turning his head to look back at the roadworkers, who were eyeing the cars with interest, two of them snubbing out their cigarettes with steel capped boots.

One of the men turned his back on the procession of cars, and Bilbo’s eyes widened as he saw a not-so-small bulk protruding from the waistband of the man’s trousers, hiding under a neon yellow vest. Bilbo gulped. “Dwalin, I think we have a problem."

“What do you mean, a problem?"

Bilbo’s eyes remained glued to the man, who had turned back around and sneered at him, catching the Hobbit’s eye. “Dwalin, we need to get out of here _now_."

“Thorin's right, I’m just being paranoid, lad... there’s no chance we’ll be targeted twice in one night. Azog isn’t that organised." 

He turned his head so he could meet Dwalin’s eye in the rear vision mirror. “I don’t think those men were certified road workers."

Dwalin let out a bark of laughter. “Bilbo, stop being such a-" 

“-Everyone, get down!” Bilbo hollered as he whipped his head around and caught the men at the last moment as they all pulled out their guns from where they were stashed, some of the men leaning down to pull submachine guns out from under traffic cones.

“Fuck!” Dwalin cursed as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, the wheels spinning momentarily on the gravel as they found traction and then pushed the car forward.

Thorin grabbed the back of Bilbo’s neck and pushed him down so he folded in half, hugging his own knees. “Fucking hell, not again.” Bilbo groaned into the fabric of his trousers, putting his hands over his head as gunfire started raining down on the black Jag and its occupants.

“Get us to cover!” Thorin bellowed, now crouched over with his head between the two front seats.

“There’s no cover, we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere, it’s all paddocks!” Dwalin started weaving the car to and fro, trying to dodge as many bullets as possible.

“There!” Thorin pointed ahead, where the farmland ended and the nature reserve began. “Head for the trees, we’re going to have to dump the Jags and make a run for it."

“You’re mad."

“I’m _right_. Now head for those bloody trees."

“This isn’t one of your best ideas, Thorin.” Dwalin grunted as he looked up at the rear vision mirror and cursed rather colourfully. “Dirt bikes, fucking fantastic."

“Please don’t tell me they’re on fucking motorcycles.” Bilbo whinged, then let out a surprised yelp as a well-aimed bout of gunfire shattered the rear window. “Jesus!"

Dwalin breaked suddenly, taking out one of Azog’s men who was stupidly close, and pushed the car forward a split second after. “Thorin, text the others, we’re heading for that damn forest.” 

“On it.” Thorin pulled out his phone and started texting frantically, popping his head up now and then to check that the rest of the Jags were still following. “They’re all in, do it."

“Only because you asked so nicely.” 

The Jag barrelled forward, the purr of its engine echoing around the flat landscape, and started climbing up a hill, the forest waiting for them on the other side.

Bilbo’s window shattered, raining shards of glass down upon him. “Can we _please_ get out of here!"

“I’m doing my best, lad.” Dwalin grunted through gritted teeth. He went up another gear and pushed the car over the hill, then released another batch of colourful language as he caught sight of what was lurking on the other side.

An ambush. How fantastic.

At the bottom of the hill smugly waiting for them sat Azog and eight of his men, a heavy SMG resting on the leader's lap as he straddled a large white dirt bike, revving its engine challengingly as the Jag containing Bilbo, Thorin and Dwalin hurtled towards them. 

“Azog.” Thorin spat, mouth transforming into a snarl.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Bilbo demanded, peering up cautiously but not raising his head.

The Jag went up another gear. “We’ve got company. I suggest you hold onto something"

“Hold onto something?” He felt Thorin cover his head with a heavy arm and frowned down at his knees. “Dwalin, I-“ Bilbo was interrupted by a burst of gunfire from within the car, and let out a surprised yelp. “What the fuck are you doing?"

“Clearing a path.” He replied with far too much enthusiasm, driving with one hand as he pointed his Glock at the barricade they were speeding towards. “A little help, Thorin?” Dwalin asked as he paused shooting for a moment and used the hilt of his gun to shatter the centre of the windscreen, leaving a halo of glass at its corners.

“Only since you asked so nicely.” Thorin replied teasingly as he pulled one of his handguns out of its underarm holster and began firing in Azog’s direction.

“Just get them to scatter, don’t worry about showing off or anything.” Dwalin teased, ducking a well-aimed shot from one of Azog’s thugs.

“Hilarious.” 

“Alright, gents?” Bofur cheekily yelled as he pulled his Jag up beside them, grinning widely as he drove with one hand and aimed his handgun ahead.

“Oh thank Christ.” Thorin muttered, discarding an empty magazine and clipping in another only seconds after. “We need to get to that bloody forest."

“I know, why don’t we just drive through the idiots to get there?"

Thorin shrugged, looking at Dwalin. “I’ve heard worse ideas." 

“We need to get that fucking SMG off Azog, then we can make it.” Dwalin responded, steering the car right to dodge a burst of gunfire from said smg. “We need to get it off him _now_."

Bofur's grin turned predatory. “I think we can work something out. Nori?” 

“On it, mate.” Nori leant forward in the passenger seat and retrieved a strange-looking pistol, which had a barrel that was far wider than anything Thorin had seen before. 

“What the hell is that?” Thorin asked as he fired a few shots forward, hitting one of Azog’s men in in the shoulder.

Nori’s eyebrows raised mischievously. “Grenade launcher pistol. I suggest we accelerate through the aftermath."

“Jesus fucking Christ, we’re all dead.” Bilbo moaned, loud enough for Bofur to catch wind of it and grin even wider. 

“Good to hear Bilbo’s still with us.” He chuckled.  

Bilbo groaned. “You’re all insane."

Bofur laughed brightly as he directed a few well-aimed shots ahead, making one of Azog’s lackeys grab his thigh and fall off his bike. “Just keep down, lad. We’ll be out of this soon enough."

“Nori, we’re getting close. Anytime now would be good.” Dwalin hollered, revving the engine as he went up another gear. 

“So bossy.” Nori replied sarcastically, aimed at the centre of the road a few feet before Azog’s men, grinned as he met the leader’s eye, and fired.

“Get back!” Azog howled as he revved his dirt bike, kicked up the side stand and pulled the motorcycle to the right and onto the surrounding paddock, narrowly missing the flames and the following four Jags.

“Fuckers!” Bofur cheered as he sped past, flipping them off as he passed them, then released a surprised yelp as he dodged a few bullets from one of Azog’s lackeys.

“This car’s nearly done for it, Thorin. We need to get out of here.” Dwalin warned, smoke starting to plume out of the front of the hood.

“Nearly there, once we pass that fence, pull over and sprint."

“Jesus.” Bilbo groaned, hands still covering his ears from the gunfire earlier.

“Doing alright back there, lad?” Dwalin asked far too cheerily for the situation as he looked in the rear-view mirror. 

“Bloody stellar." 

Dwalin chuckled. “Just run when I tell you to and we’ll be fine in no time, no need to get all riled up."

“ _Riled up!_  Now see here-"

“-Right, this is where we get off.” Dwalin gripped the steering wheel and pulled the car to the left, half of the Jag ending up in the grass. “You two run into the woods, I’ll give you some cover."

“Dwalin! You can’t-"

“-Great idea, come on Bilbo.” Thorin interrupted and pushed Bilbo up and out of the car, throwing his country bag at him which he caught with both hands; then put a strong hand at the small of Bilbo's back as they started sprinting towards the woods, which were only a few yards away.

“Thorin, we can’t just-"

“-He’s right behind us, and so are the others, I promise you. This is what Dwalin’s trained for, just focus on finding cover."

Bilbo clenched his fists but held his tongue as he pulled his bag across his body and they entered the forest, only using the light of the moon to see where they were going. “Where do we go?"

“Straight ahead, until the others catch up and we no longer hear gunfire behind us."

He let out an indignant huff. “How bloody straightforward."

“Are you always this grumpy when you exercise?” Bofur called out cheekily, a few paces behind them.

“Oh, thank God.” Bilbo sighed, turning his head for a moment to catch Bofur's wide grin.

“The others?” Thorin asked, breath not hitching at all with under the strain of the sprint, whereas Bilbo had already started sweating and huffing from the strenuous activity.

Bofur sped up momentarily so he could run by Thorin’s side. “Close behind, so far we haven’t been followed by Azog and Co., but I’m sure they wouldn’t give up so easy."

“They’re coming, rest assured.” Thorin replied darkly, gaze searching ahead for signs of their hunters.

Loud footsteps started closing in, and the wheezing of Bombur was heard in the background. “Ah, here come the rest.” Bofur fell back and started running by Bilbo’s side, reaching out to pat his back companionably. “Alright, lad?" 

Bilbo nodded, focussing on his breathing. “Just… not used to running so long.” 

“We’ll stop when we can, just hold on, yeah?” He asked soothingly, no hint of teasing in his tone.

“Yeah, I can manage."

“Knew you could, you’re made of stronger stuff, you are.” Bofur winked at him cheerily.

The rest of the company caught up moments after, Gandalf at the head. “Lovely to see you all, isn’t this a beautiful night for a run?"

Bilbo snorted. “Sure, gunfire and dangerous men following us, but hey! It’s a full moon and the weather’s nice, let’s have a fucking picnic to celebrate."

Gandalf only chuckled in response, shaking his head. “Any injuries?"

“I’ve got a clean shoulder wound and Bifur’s been nicked on the neck from some flying glass, otherwise we’re fine.” Dwalin replied, Bilbo only then noticing how he was running while cupping his left shoulder, bloodied hand looking black in the moonlight.

“Jesus, Dwalin! Why didn’t you say anything?” Bilbo asked furiously, scowling up at him.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s more irritating than life threatening."

“ _Irritating!_ ” Bilbo spluttered. “It’s official, you really are mad."

“He’s had worse.” Thorin offered, firm hand still at Bilbo’s back, pushing him forward.

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “And that makes me feel so much better."

“Quiet!” Dwalin hissed, instantly silencing them all. He waved at them all to stop, crouching as his eyes scanned the darkness. “I think they’re here. We’ve got to creep forward, nobody make a sound."

The group only nodded in reply as Dwalin softly treaded to the front of the troupe, gestured behind his back for them to crouch as well and follow, and started making his way deeper into the forest. 

Thorin’s hand never strayed from Bilbo’s back, its warmth soothing the Hobbit somewhat and reminding him that he was there. His heart started beating loudly in his ears, nothing to do with the sprint he had just undertaken. “Thorin? What do we do if they find us?” He whispered so softly that only Thorin could hear, his left side pressed against Bilbo’s right.

“You'll take cover and stay safe while we fight them off."

“That’s the worst idea I have ever heard.” Bilbo hissed, pressing in closer to him.

“I told you, I’m going to keep you safe.” Thorin breathed in his ear, leaning down to match his height.

“You’re an idiot."

Thorin let out an amused huff. “I’m your idiot."

Bilbo was about to elbow Thorin in the ribs for being a prat but forgot instantly as he saw Dwalin freeze, his blood turning cold. “What’s happening?" 

“Stay here.” Thorin muttered as he placed a fleeting kiss against Bilbo’s temple and crept forward to Dwalin’s side. “Do we have company?"

“I think so.” He spun around on the spot, scanning the small clearing they had walked into to search for any strategic hiding spots. “We need to find cover and catch Azog off guard."

“Try looking up, my dears.” Gandalf whispered from behind them, startling the two.

“Jesus, I could have killed you.” Dwalin grunted, loosening his grip on the Glock tucked into the back of his trousers.

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled. “If you’d like to try, could I perhaps suggest another time? I feel there’s more pressing matters at hand.” He gestured to the tall Ash trees around them. “I think we’d better start climbing, don’t you?"

Dwalin nodded, then turned to face the rest of the group. “Trees. Now. Get as high as you can."

The company burst into action, all of them breaking into small groups to help each other up and into the treetops. Bilbo only stared dumbly at all of them until Fili and Kili grabbed each of his arms and pushed him towards the closest tree. 

“Hey!” He squawked indignantly. “I can find a bloody tree myself."

“Stop fussing and climb up.” Kill bent down and laced his fingers together, prepped to give Bilbo a bunk-up. “Come on!"

“Christ, fine!” Bilbo walked forward and placed a hand on Kili’s shoulder, the other on the trunk of the tree. “Just be careful."

“I always am.” He replied playfully as he pushed Bilbo up towards the lowest branch, grinning as he heard Bilbo yelp when he reached his target.

Kill stood and checked that Bilbo was safely in place, then clamped Fili on his shoulder. “Shall we?" 

“Come on, get up.” Fill bent down and waited patiently for Kili to climb up on his shoulders, then stood up slowly, holding on his knees to keep him in place. “Pull me up after, don’t just leave me here."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Fee.” Kill replied cheekily as he slowly got to his feet on Fili’s shoulders, found a sturdy branch, and leapt forward. “Shit yes!” He whispered happily under his breath. 

“Hey Kee! A little help!"

“Coming, you twat.” Kill rolled his eyes at Bilbo once, sat down on the branch, then flopped backwards and hung upside down.

“Kili! What the hell are you doing!” Bilbo hissed worriedly, too far away to reach them.

“Shut up, we’ve done this millions of times.” He reached out and grabbed Fili’s hands, then hauled him up and onto the same branch as him.

Bilbo’s jaw dropped. “Fucking hell."

They both grinned over at him, Kili panting as Fili patted him on the back. “We had to work out some way to sneak out at night, thank goodness mum let us take gymnastics at school.” Kill said casually, winking over at him.

“It comes in handy now and then, especially when escaping the paps.” Fill dusted himself off and stood up on the branch, then jumped and pulled himself onto a study one above, legs dangling as he sat himself up. 

“We should get as high as we can.” Kill peered over at Bilbo, who was sitting with a leg each side of the trunk, hugging it desperately. “That is if you can handle it, Bilbo?"

“Shut up.” He muttered under his breath, nails digging into the rough bark. “I’m just not used to heights."

Fili looked down at the ground, then back up at him. “Bilbo, we’re only a few feet up."

“If it’s higher than six feet, then it's too fucking high.” 

“Bilbo, can’t you-“ Kili paused as they saw headlights approach, casting eerie silhouettes of the gnarled trees into the clearing. 

“Shit, we have company.” Fill whispered urgently, crouching on his branch. “Kee, get him higher."

“Working on it.” Kill replied as he hoisted himself up, swung his arms, and used a perpendicular branch between Bilbo and himself to swing on over, landing behind the shaken Hobbit. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed, you know that!” Bilbo muttered under his breath, not moving one inch.

“You can scold me later, it’s time we get you higher up."

He shook his head, making his curls fall about his face. “Not happening."

“It’s either climbing higher, or getting caught by Azog. Your choice."

Bilbo swallowed audibly, twisting his head to meet Kili’s gaze. “Up it is, then."

His grin widened. “Correct answer.” Kill stood up on their perch, gently holding Bilbo’s sides to get him to join him. Once he was up, Kili turned him around so he had his back against the trunk. “See that branch up there?” He pointed above them to his left. “I’m gonna climb up there with you on my back, but you’ve got to trust me, alright?"

“Just get this embarrassment over and done with, will you? They’re getting closer."

“Okay, come on.” He pulled Bilbo’s arms around his shoulders, bouncing up and down momentarily to get the Hobbit's legs clamped solidly around his hips. “Now I have to let go of you, are you holding on tight?"

He only hummed in agreement, slamming his eyes shut in preparation.

“We can do this, Bilbo.” Kili took in a sharp intake of air, crouched and swung his arms to and fro to get some momentum, and leapt forward, wrapping his arms tightly around the branch above.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Bilbo hissed, arms tightening around Kili’s neck as the young man grunted and pulled them up, then stood, and leapt for another. “Kili! You said we were only going up one!"

“I may have lied."

Two more jumps later, they were safely near the top of the tree, Bilbo’s nails digging into Kili’s shoulders as he shuffled them close to the trunk to hold on. A second later Fili joined them, wolfishly grinning at Bilbo’s pale face. 

“That was quite a show you put on there, brother.” Fili jested, elbowing him in the ribs.

“Shh!” Kili scolded, pointing down at the clearing below as twenty dirt bikes sped into the clearing, revving their engines as they started circling around the area. “Where the hell is-“ His voice faltered as a familiar bulk entered their view, white scarred muscles rippling under a ripped black vest. 

“Where are you, lamby?” Azog called out into the clearing, making Bilbo shiver involuntarily. He climbed off his bike, letting it idle behind on its side stand. “I know you’re close, I can smell you."

“Fuck.” Bilbo breathed, eyes widening as he took in the scene below. 

Azog ripped off his helmet, uncaringly tossing it behind himself on the ground, and sneered up at the trees. “Where are you hiding? I didn’t think sheep were supposed to climb trees?” He chuckled darkly, sauntering to the centre of the ring of trees. “I’m not very patient, if you don’t come soon I might have to make you."

One of his men dismounted his bike, reached into his backpack and retrieved a lighter and small Jerry can, then walked over to stand by Azog’s side. 

“I’m not patient, but I am reasonable.” He clicked on a torch and started scanning the trees, releasing a dark chuckle as he spotted Oin, who was in one of the lower boughs of a tree. “If you come down now and don’t make me wait, I’ll spare your little friends."

Bilbo froze. “Shit."

“You’ve got a minute, lamby. After then, my friends and I will smoke you out of your little nest."

“Christ.” He met Fili’s gaze and bit his lip. “I think I have to do it."

Fill reached forward and grabbed Bilbo’s hand. “Don’t you fucking dare, you can’t trust him. He’ll tie you up and burn us anyway."

He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous."

“Bilbo… he torched my uncle and grandparents. If he’s done it once, he can do it again." 

“ _Shit_."

“Thirty seconds and counting, what will it be?” Azog taunted, shining the torch through the other trees, pausing the beam of light when he caught sight of another hiding man. “Twenty five, come on lamby."

Bilbo scanned the clearing below, then as he was looking up, met Thorin’s eye. The politician held his gaze and shook his head, then raised his finger to cover his lips in a silencing gesture. “Shit, I think Thorin’s up to something.” He whispered to his two companions, as Thorin pointed upwards at Gandalf, two branches above himself. 

“What is going on?” Kili asked, leaning forward to try see where Bilbo was looking.

“Time’s up.” Azog laughed dryly, then nodded at the man at his side, who stomped forward and made for the closest tree; which contained Thorin, Gandalf, Dwalin and Balin.

“We have to do something!” He whispered urgently, heartbeat hammering in his chest as he watched the thug close in.

As the hulk of a man unscrewed the cap of petrol, something flew down at him and landed in the Jerry can, making him pause and look inside. “What the fu-“ The container exploded, shooting flames in all directions, the shockwave throwing the man of his feet. “Fuck!” He wailed, rolling around on the floor as he ripped off his jacket and smothered the flames on his face and torso, his legs luckily remaining untouched by fire. 

Azog growled furiously, taking a few steps back, away from the circle of flames. “Someone get Sam out of here, _now!_ ” He hollered as one of his thugs, dressed in all black, bolted forward and pulled the injured man up on his feet and towards his idling dirt bike. “Get him to the safe house and come right back." 

“Yes, Boss.” The man replied with a thick northern accent, then climbed up on his bike, wrapping the burnt man’s arms around his middle before he revved the engine and sped out of the clearing.

“You’ve taken out one of my best men, you fuckers.” Azog bellowed up at the trees, face lit menacingly by the dancing flames. 

“And you best stay away if you know what’s best for you.” Gandalf called out from his hiding spot, tossing some small nondescript red cylinders down at his three companions below, then pegged four up at Fili, who caught them in both hands. 

Bilbo reached up and took one, turning the red cylinder in his hand, the length of his forefinger and twice the width, noticing the inch-long wick that stuck out of its centre. “And what the hell are these?"

“Whatever took out _Sam_ , I suppose.” Fill mumbled, holding one of the cylinders close to his face to inspect it. 

“Are these explosives!” Bilbo hissed, pushing his into Kili’s hand.

Kili hummed in agreement. “I think so. Just think of it as a firework without all the fun.” He looked over at Gandalf, who was signalling for them all to wait. “Going to go ahead and guess we all throw them together."

Three of Azog’s men started making their way towards the tree line, all holding their own petrol, keeping the lids in place. 

Bilbo bent down to get a closer look. “They’re coming closer, what do we do?” 

"Wait. Gandalf's waiting for something."

The loud roar of an engine sounded from behind the tree line, twice as throaty and loud as the flimsy dirt bikes the thugs rode, making Azog snarl and spin around on the spot. 

"What the fuck was that?" Bilbo hissed, squinting in the low light cast from the still-burning fire below.

Distracted by the new sound, Bilbo and his companions missed one of Azog's thugs sneak under their tree, drench its base in petrol, then slink off and throw his lighter back into the puddle; the ' _fwump_!' of the lit fire snapping them out of their reverie quick smart. 

" _No_. No, no no no." Bilbo groaned as he watched the fire start licking up the base of their tree.

"Time to move, Bilbo." Kili stood up, pulling Bilbo's elbow to make the Hobbit join him upright. 

"And where exactly are we going?" He hissed indignantly, knuckles whitening as he held onto the trunk for dear life.

"Just to the next tree, nothing major."

" _Nothing major_!" Bilbo slapped Kili's hands away, that had started attempting to turn him around. 

"We don't have much time, come on." Fili beckoned as he started walking to the edge of his branch towards their leafy destination; which contained Bifur, Bofur and Bombur. 

"The longer we wait, the higher the flames get. Can we please just leave?" Kili successfully turned Bilbo around to face him, and offered his hand. "Just follow me, yeah? If the jump looks too much, I'll carry you."

"Fucking great, sure, let's go."

Kili squeezed his hand once and started leading them towards the end of their branch, Bilbo's anxiety heightening as the branch became thinner and thinner and started wobbling dangerously under their combined weight. Once they reached as far as they could, Kili crouched and scanned the branches below.

"We've got to climb down to that branch there, then we can get across. Can you do that?" He asked gently, pointing at their target a few feet below. "I'll go first, then catch you. Sound doable?"

"Sounds bloody terrifying, but I think I can manage."

"Fantastic." Kili crouched down, winked up at Bilbo, then dropped down to the branch below.

Bilbo's stomach dropped. "Shit, there's no way I can do that!" He hissed down at Kili, who was waiting for him, arms up and ready to catch him. 

"The fire's already half way up the tree, we're running out of time!"

"Buggering shit fucking dick." Bilbo swore under his breath as he shakily sat down and swung one leg over so he was sitting with both legs dangling just above Kili's head. 

Kili tapped his shoe, and started waving for him to come down. "Now, Bilbo!"

"Oh Jesus-" He let go of his perch and slipped down, lost his breath, and found himself wobbling and with a face full of Kili's chest. "-oh thank Christ."

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" Kili teased, patting him on the back. "Now come on, we just need to walk across this branch and do one little jump, and we're safe."

"Just lead on, you prat. You're enjoying this far too much." 

He winked down at him cheekily, grabbed his hand, and started inching towards their neighbouring tree until they were fresh out of branch. "Just do what I do." He instructed before crouching momentarily and leapt onto the next tree, grabbing onto a branch above to steady himself. 

"Right. Yes. One more jump, then I'm done."

Bilbo took in a shaky breath, crouched as Kili did, leapt forward... and felt his fingertips graze the tree branch before he felt himself begin to topple backwards.

And then everything went black.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More action happening this chapter! Goodness.  
> Next chapter there's quite a bit of fluff and the action calms down, so if you're after more cute dorks flailing over each other, never fear.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> This fic is not Brit-picked at allllll. My only weapon is Google and YouTube.  
> Flawless beta who gives the best notes: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'm going away for a holiday!  
> There isnt any internet where I'm going, so I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can... Which will probably be sometime in the second week of Feb.  
> Comments most welcome!


	18. Bilbo the knockout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin are whisked away,  
> We meet ‘The Eagles’ and their leader,  
> And Sleeping Beauty awakens from his deep slumber.

Groggily opening his eyes, Bilbo hazily looked around the clearing, only catching hints of dark silhouettes moving about hurriedly, some of the figures nearly twice the size of the other shapes he could make out. He shook his head and sat up, utterly disorientated with no idea where he was and why he was lying on the forest floor flat on his back, staring up at the canopy. Groaning raggedly, he shifted backwards and leant against the base of a nearby tree, scrubbing the heels of his hands against his eye sockets.

"What in the name of Brian Christ is going on?" He mumbled under his breath sluggishly, squinting around and getting rather frustrated by his poor eyesight. "Bloody hell, my head hurts." 

He tucked his knees against his chest and sunk back towards the tree, hoping against all hopes that he wouldn't attract any unwanted attention; the sounds of cracking fire, raised voices and roaring motorcycles letting him know the danger was _anything_ but over.

"Right. Azog and his lot are in the forest. Brilliant."

Both hands against the forest floor, Bilbo felt the vibrations of something close in before he caught ear of the deep rumbling of a motorcycle engine. Thankful for the early warning, Bilbo closed his right hand around the hilt of his knife, humming worriedly under his breath as he tried to focus his hazy thoughts on what defensive moves he might be forced to do, fingers fidgeting nervously with the leather hilt.

A beast of a motorcycle came into view only a few feet away from him and Bilbo let out a relieved breath as he found his eyes able to focus on it, utterly pleased he wouldn't have to do anything half-blind. 

The rider revved their engine and left it idling in front of Bilbo, and slowly tilted their helmeted head to take in Bilbo from toe to tip. "Get on the bike." A muffled voice commanded gruffly, its owner unknown, the helmet masking any hint of gender or age.

Bilbo tightened his hold on the knife and shook his head, gaze directed at what he hoped were the riders eyes. "I-I have no idea who you are, so there's no fucking way I'm getting on with you."

"I'm with Gandalf, just get on. I need to get you to safety."

His eyesight starting to return to its previous state, Bilbo blinked up at his mysterious 'rescuer' and then looked about the clearing, taking in a surprised breath as he started to catch on to what was actually taking place only a few yards away from him.

Seemingly out of nowhere, leather-clad riders on Harleys were entering the space, firelight flickering mesmerisingly off their black riding gear as they scooped up a member of the campaign team one by one, then bolted out of the clearing in a heartbeat as soon as their pillion was secured. Bilbo felt his bottom jaw gape dumbfoundedly as he watched a panicked Ori get flung over someone's back, pull on some far-too-large-for-his-head riding goggles and shriek loudly as the bike growled and shot out of view.

"What the hell is going on?!" He spluttered indignantly, briefly wishing his eyesight was still hazy and he didn't have to deal with what was unfolding before him.

The rider sighed loudly and pulled off their helmet, revealing herself to be a rather attractive Japanese woman with cropped dark hair, winged eyeliner and red lipstick. She looked like she could snap Bilbo in half with her left foot only, she was simultaneously stunning and terrifying, and Bilbo felt himself wither under her sharp gaze.

"This isn't really the best time, gorgeous. Get on the damn bike." Her voice commanded as she tossed a helmet at his feet, smirking as he released a surprised yelp. 

He slowly got to his feet, brushing down his clothes from all the leaves and dirt he found himself covered in. "I'm not leaving without Thorin, where is he?"

She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. "I've no idea who he is, he's not my problem. _You are_."

"I feel so blessed... Now, enough with the theatrics, _really_. Acting all mysterious with your _cheekbones_ and _helmet reveal_." He rolled his eyes. "You can wait over here untill I'm ready, like I said, I won't leave without him." He added challengingly, crossing his arms.

"This isn't a fucking taxi service. Now _get on the bike_." She hissed, upper lip curling unto the beginnings of a snarl.

“Oh I'm positively _terrified_." He replied sarcastically as he sighed dramatically, peered over her shoulder, and froze.

Thorin.

But not _just_ Thorin, oh no. The universe wouldn't be that kind. 

Bilbo's eyes widened as he saw Azog tilt a heavy-looking silver handgun up into the tree, aimed at an unsuspecting Thorin who was busy yelling down at Dwalin, two branches below.

"Thorin! Christ, can you please just pay attention for once-" His wailing was cut short as he watched Azog disengage the safety with his thumb, a terrifying smile blooming on the thug's face. "Fuck, no time." Bilbo patted his pockets, found nothing of use, then paused as he saw the fist-sized Rock by his left ankle. 

Wasting no time to second guess himself, Bilbo scooped up the Rock and threw it in Azog's direction as hard as he could, releasing a satisfied _yes! as_ he heard the crunch of rock meeting knuckles. Azog released a pained howl and cupped his bloody hand protectively to his chest, gun falling forgotten to the ground, and spun around to catch the sight of his attacker.

"Whoops. Time to move." He nodded at the dumbfounded rider and bolted for the tree line, ignoring her frustrated cursing as she watched him run off.

"Hey! Get back here!" Her hissing fell upon uncaring ears, Bilbo opting to blatantly ignore her and continue slipping out of sight.

Bilbo tiptoed behind the largest tree he could find, a few yards behind the ring of trees at the edge of the clearing and peered carefully from behind it, trying to catch wind of where Azog was lurking.

"Come out come out, wherever you are." Azog taunted in a singsong voice, making Bilbo release a full body shudder. "Come on Lamby, make this easy on both of us and just show yourself." He chuckled darkly. "Smaug said I had to bring you back _alive_ , but he never said in _how many pieces_."

Bilbo crouched lower to the ground, eyes frantically scanning the forest around him. "Oh fuck no, I'm getting out of here." He whispered under his breath, slowly creeping over to another tree in the opposite direction to the sound of Azog's voice.

Once he had found a suitable hiding place between a tall leafy bush and two gnarled trees, Bilbo patted down his pockets and gauged just how screwed he was. "Right so... One ridiculous knife, a teaspoon from the motel and a Chapstick. Fantastic, I'll take down Azog and his men singlehandedly in _no time_." He cursed under his breath and fisted his hands in the sides of his trousers. 

To his left, Bilbo heard the faint rustling of leaves, and he froze. "Shit." Only then noticing  a scattered few rocks around the base of the tree he was crouched against, he silently reached down and picked them up, making a small pile in his lap, one of the largest in his right hand, ready for action. 

He closed his eyes momentarily and took in a fortifying breath, then raised his right arm, preparing for the worst, his raised limb starting to shake. "Come on Bilbo, pull yourself together." Bilbo muttered to himself, furrowing his brow. 

The rustling came in closer, so he crouched even lower, now biting his lip worriedly. "You bastard, stop teasing me and just bloody do it already!" He whispered a touch louder, hating every millisecond that he didn't know what was coming for him. 

"Well, I do _so_ enjoy teasing you, Bilbo."

"Thorin, you fucking menace!" Bilbo let out a relieved breath, then stood up and punched Thorin lightly in the shoulder. "What the hell was that, sneaking up on me when I could have hurt you!"

Thorin chuckled, then pushed Bilbo back against the tree, out of sight from any unwanted eyes. "Like you would ever hurt me, you can't even manage to take off my trousers in one go."

He rolled his eyes and huffed amusedly up at Thorin, but didn't let go of the large rock in his right hand. "I've already saved your perfect arse once tonight, a bit of respect would be nice." 

"Perfect, you say?" He raised an eyebrow, smirking down at him.

Bilbo slapped his shoulder with his free hand. "Not the time or place! Remember! There's sort of a _murder_ chasing after me right now and your friends are all being whisked away by bloody bikers."

"They're safe, The Eagles are friends of Gandalf." Thorin pressed his body flush against Bilbo's, one arm braced against the tree, nipping at the soft skin at his throat.

"The Eagles? Wha-" Bilbo began but was silenced by a sharp bite to his collarbone, which Thorin lapped at afterwards with his tongue. "Thorin! What are you doing?!" He hissed indignantly, but made no move to push him away.

"You scared me earlier." Thorin nosed against the ridge of his jaw, making some of the tension melt away from Bilbo's shoulders. "I saw you fall from the tree, I thought you were badly injured... Or worse."

"Yes well we can celebrate my good health later, but right now we need to get out of here." He patted Thorin's arm and started pushing away from the tree, but the taller man didn't move one inch. 

"Five minutes, then we can go." He licked the shell of Bilbo's ear, which earned himself a hard slap to his side. 

"Honestly! Reign in that libido of yours, we're leaving _now_!" Bilbo scolded, crossing his arms.

"You could have died, Bilbo." He placed a heavy hand on Bilbo's hip, and squeezed. "You'll forgive me if I want to be thorough in checking that you're unharmed."

Bilbo tutted, breath hitching when Thorin laid a wet kiss behind his ear. "You've done a pretty thorough investigation of my neck, I can assure you the rest of me is quite fine." He pushed Thorin back so he could meet his gaze, his hand resting in the centre of the politician's chest. "We can do this later, Thorin. I'm fine, _really_ , can we please get out of here?" 

Thorin gave in and leant back, planted a lingering kiss on his lips, and beamed down at him. "Only because you asked so sweetly." 

"Incorrigible." He tutted, laced his fingers with Thorin's and started moving away from their hiding spot. "Now, I think I can get us safely back to our ride." 

"Lead on." Thorin squeezed his hand once, then crouched to match Bilbo's wary body language.

"Now, if we just go around this tree-" His eyes widened as he turned the corner and caught the bright glint of firelight reflecting off Azog's pistol, and grabbed Thorin's shoulder as he saw the gun aimed up at the politician. "-shit, get down!" He hollered as he unceremoniously pulled Thorin down to the ground, ignoring the rip of fabric he heard as he did so. 

Halfway to the ground, a shot rang out and Bilbo's stomach dropped as he felt Thorin lurch backwards next to him, and the shirt under his hand become wet with something thick and warm. He rolled Thorin onto his back, saw the red start blooming on his grey button down, and felt all colour drain from his face. 

"Thorin! Oh Christ, _Thorin_." He nudged Thorin's side, but he remained unresponsive. The sound of Azog's low laughter filtered into his hearing above the beat of his heartbeat thumping in Bilbo's ears, and he felt his fear transform into a white hot rage. His fingers tightened around the rock that was still clutched in his right hand and he slowly stood and faced Azog, his lips starting to curl into the beginnings of a snarl, hands clenching into fists by his side. "You're fucking _dead_."

Azog tilted his head back in raucous laughter, and in a split second Bilbo hurled the rock with all his might at Azog's head, hitting him square between the eyes, and let out his own bark of laughter as he caught the baffled look on Azog's face as he was silenced and fell backwards with a loud _thump!_

Not giving two shits just _how injured_ Azog was, Bilbo turned back to Thorin and kneeled by his side. "Thorin? Thorin? Oh Jesus, can you hear me?" Somewhere behind him a Harley revved and drew close, but he ignored it and continued pawing at the unconscious politician before him. "No, no no no. Thorin?"

The roaring engine closed in and then idled, the sounds of a swish of a kick stand flicking out and groaning leather as the rider dismounted were heard at his back, but he still made no move to see who was closing in. Only when the rider's heavy boots thudded through the grass and stilled by his side and a large hand closed around his right shoulder did he look up, met by the warm brown eyes of the rider.

"Come on, help me wrap this wound and get him up on my bike, I'll get him to safety." The woman offered gently, the distant firelight flickering softly against her dark skin.

A mix of desperation and the genuine tone of her voice made him instantly trust her, so he nodded numbly and moved aside as she kneeled by Thorin's bloody shoulder. Bilbo scooted back and sat cross-legged with his left hand tangled in Thorin's hair, running his fingers through it as he silently watched her as she pulled off her worn leather jacket and revealed an acid wash crop top and her toned, muscular arms and stomach. 

"How long since he was hit?" She asked, not paying attention to Bilbo as she poked around the wound and lifted him slowly, checking for an exit wound, which did not exist. "The bullets still in, we need to be quick otherwise it can get infected."

"Uh, not long. Around... Five, ten minutes. You showed up just after I brained Azog with a rock."

She let out a loud bark of laughter, which made her long belliaged black-to-caramel brown dreads fall over her shoulders. "I saw that, he's going to be so pissed that a curly-haired bloke a quarter of his size knocked him out with a  _pebble_." 

He harrumphed. "You're exaggerating, you make it sound like we were bloody David and Goliath." 

"I'm not too far off, though. He did have a gun and all you had was a _rock_." She started unbuttoning Thorin's shirt, then paused and looked up at him. "Is it okay if I strip his shirt? I need to use it to stop the bleeding."

Bilbo frowned. "Of course it's fine, why would you bother asking me?"

She shrugged, returning to her task of removing the bloodied shirt. "If a strange woman came out of nowhere and started stripping _my boyfriend_ , I'd want to know why." 

He spluttered, eyes wide. "What? No. He's not my- no. We're not..." He trailed off, flailing awkwardly with his free hand.

"Sorry, of course it's none of my business." She shrugged, then carefully lifted Thorin and pulled the battered piece of fabric away with one hand. "Now, I'm going to wrap this up tight, whilst I do so I need you to keep pressure on the wound, can you manage that?"

"Sure, just show me where to press." He sat up on his haunches and shuffled closer on his knees so they were brushing against Thorin's shoudler.

"Here-" She ripped off one of the shirt's arms and scrunched it onto a ball, then held it over the bullet hole and guided Bilbo's hands to press over it. "-I'm going to wrap this pretty tight, don't move."

Bilbo only grunted in acknowledgement as she ripped the button down into two and started on the makeshift bandage. She tied the two pieces tightly over his hands, knotting both pieces firmly over each other. Once she was done, she tapped his hands lightly and he slid them carefully out from under the bandage.

She padded back over to the Harley to retrieve a silver flask from one of her leather straddle bags and returned to Thorin's side. "Here, this will help." The sharp smell of whiskey filled the air when she unscrewed the cap, then poured a generous amount into the wound. Once she was pleased with the rough first aid she'd performed, she sat back and offered Bilbo a genuine smile. "It's Gwahir, if you were wondering."

"Bilbo Baggins." He let out a ragged sigh, running his fingers nervously through his hair. "So, how the hell are we going to get Thorin on _that_." Bilbo emphasised whilst pointing over her shoulder at the Bike behind.

"He's not my first unconscious pillion, if that's what you're asking." Gwahir smirked at him, then got to her feet and started unbuckling her belt. "We'll tie him around my waist, the straddle bags should keep his legs in place. Just think of the bike as a... rolling armchair."

Bilbo groaned. "More like an armchair from hell, but there's nothing we can do about it. Let's just get him on so we can get that bullet out." 

"Good idea. I'll carry him over to the Harley, you hold him place while I get on."

"Sure, let's do this." He peered over at Azog, who had started grunting with pain. "And fucking quickly, we're about to have company."

Gwahir winked at him, and patted the back of her trousers. "I have his gun, so he can't do much with that muddled head of his except try to headbutt us." She groaned as she lifted up Thorin, pulling his arms around her neck in the most awkward piggy back ride Bilbo had ever seen, Thorin's legs dragging uselessly behind as she heavily sauntered    towards the bike. 

Once she made her way beside the black Harley, she leaned over it to her left and pulled him up till his arse was perched on the seat, and then Bilbo helped her swing Thorin's leg up and over onto the foot rest. Next, Bilbo hugged Thorin's chest and held him up as his head lolled to the side and Gwahir pulled on her black helmet, lifted up the visor and carefully slid into the riders seat. 

"Now, pull out my belt and tie his hands together around my waist, yeah?" Gwahir instructed, nodding down at her undone belt that was hanging loosely from her wet-look black skinny jeans. 

"On it." He mumbled as he awkwardly pushed Thorin against her back, wincing as he heard his head bang against the back of Gwahir's helmet. When Thorin was leaning all his weight against her back and didn't look like he would slip off, Bilbo walked forward and pulled her belt out of her jeans, then wrapped it around Thorin's wrists tightly and buckled them in place.

"Left saddle bag, there's a spare helmet. We don't need him getting more injured than he already is." 

Bilbo eyed Thorin's naked back wryly but acquiesced, retrieved the shiny red helmet and slid it on Thorin's head, doing up the buckle under his throat. "Now what?"

"We're getting out of here." She lifted her right hand to her lips and let out a shrill whistle, then tugged on a pair of leather gloves. "Someone will come pick you up, wait here." Gwahir nodded at the knife by his hip. "Use that if the big guy decides to wake up." She slid the dark visor down, revved the Harley's engine, and sped off in the direction of the clearing. 

"Bloody great, of course, I'll just wait here with this dangerous thug as he slowly wakes up, what a brilliant idea." He grumbled under his breath, then released a pleased sigh as he heard a motorcycle engine come closer. "Thank Christ."

A rider skidded to a halt only a foot away from him, and handed him a helmet which he pulled on without a second thought. Bilbo offered a muffled 'thank you' as he climbed onto of the bike, wrapping his arms around the bikers middle. Without waiting for him to get comfortable, they revved the engine and accelerated off, the deep sound of a man's amused laughter leaking into Bilbo's helmet as he squawked loudly with surprise and wrapped his arms tighter around his waist.

Bilbo slammed his eyes shut, tucking his head against the back of the riders shoulder. "Christ, I'm going to die."

 

\---

 

Once the initial terror of being on the back of a high speeding motorcycle had worn off, Bilbo found himself start to actually enjoy it. Well, when he wasn't tilted at a forty five degree angle, holding on for dear life as the Harley took a sharp corner at twice the speed limit. He didn't enjoy those moments _quite_ so much. When the Harley was going in a straight line down a bitumen road and he could comfortably watch the moonlit countryside zip past, that was when he was most content. 

At one point he'd even released his vice-like grip from the riders waist, and winced guiltily as he heard him inhale a grateful lungful of air. After that point, Bilbo ensured his hold on his leather-clad companion wasn't crushing the life out of him, despite his reflex to squeeze the poor man to death when they went around another tight corner without any warning.

After just under half an hour of riding, the rider slowed down and indicted right, turning the Harley down a dirt road that they had to take at half the speed, much to Bilbo’s delight. 

"Thank Christ." Bilbo mumbled under his breath as they were jostled about on the uneven track, hoping their journey was near its end. His eyes rarely left Thorin's limp frame a few yards ahead of them, the politician still wrapped around Gwahir's back like a lifeless rag doll.

The two motorcycles rounded a corner and headed through a short archway of trees, and once they were out the other end of the leafy structure the riders both turned off their headlights, eliciting a surprised yelp from the skittish Hobbit.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Bilbo howled, tapping the rider on the shoulder until he turned his head and pulled up his visor, revealing himself to be a scrawny, pale young man with wild chestnut curls and stunning sea green eyes.

"What? You've already made me pop a lung, anything else violent you want to get over and done with before we get to the safe house?" He asked dryly, raising his voice over the rushing wind in their ears.

"The headlights are off, do you want to get us killed!?"

He shot Bilbo an incredulous look and returned his focus to the road ahead. “I’ve done this a million times, trust me, I know what I'm doing. This way, nobody catches us sneaking into the barn, if you couldn't tell, it's pretty flat and open around here."

Bilbo looked around the scene before him, only then noticing how the landscape had flattened into an array of farmland, with one solitary hill in the centre, a derelict farmhouse standing alone on the peak. "Don't tell me we're headed for that _wreck_?"

The rider snorted, revved the engine and accelerated, and smirked when he heard Bilbo make a startled squeak. "That _wreck_ is where we're staying tonight, I'd be a touch more polite unless you'd prefer to sleep outside or in the barn?"

"Farmhouse seems fine." He grumbled, eyeing the vine-covered two storey building warily; the tall wooden barn beside it appearing to be on the brink of caving in on itself, part of the roof had collapsed in on itself and one of the front doors appeared to be unusable and overgrown with ivy and weeds. 

"Thought as much." He snickered and slid his visor back down, ending the conversation.

As the farmhouse closed in, Bilbo's worry only increased. The property seemed to be utterly abandoned, making him uneasy and begin to fret over where his friends had been whisked off to. What if the riders had lied about knowing Gandalf? Bilbo bit his lip, eyes darting about the scene before him, searching for a quick escape if need be. As far as Bilbo knew, they could be walking right into a trap.

The Harley slowed down to a walking speed as it entered the gravel courtyard in front of the barn entrance, the tyres crunching loudly as his rider walked the bike over to the open door which Thorin and his rider had just disappeared behind. 

"You'll have to help Gwahir with that wounded bloke." His rider instructed, sliding up his visor once they entered the barn, revealing one other bike parked within. "And don't slide off on the exhaust pipe side of the Harley unless you want to get a nasty burn."

“Noted." Bilbo replied curtly, sliding carefully off the correct side of the bike. When his feet were both safe on the ground and his helmet was off and placed on a close bench, he speedily paced over to Thorin's side, taking in a sharp breath as he saw just how pale the man was.

"Jamie, go get the others. We're going to need some help." Gwahir directed at Bilbo's rider as he was mid-dismounting, and only grunted in agreement before he disappeared from the dimly lit barn. She then pulled her helmet off, shaking her dreads free, and smiled warmly down at Bilbo. "I've seen worse, don't worry, he'll be fine."

He wrung his hands, hovering worriedly, unsure what to do. Luckily, before he had to make a decision, he heard a familiar group of voices close in and turned, greeted by a mix of smiles and worried looks from Dwalin, Oin and Bofur; Jamie bringing up the rear.

Bilbo let out a ragged breath that he didn't realise he was holding in. "Oh thank God, you're all here."

"Of course we are lad, you won't be rid of us so easily." Bofur replied brightly, slapping him companionably on the back.

Not needing any direction at all, Dwalin and Oin both headed straight for Thorin, working together as they untied him from Gwahir's back and started carrying him to the farmhouse, one of his arms slung over each of their shoulders. When they passed Bilbo, Dwalin nodded at him to follow, which he did quietly, Bofur's arm still around his shoulder.

"Don't worry Bilbo, I've seen him in worse shape." Bofur offered, steering him forwards and out of the dark barn.

“ _So_ not helping." Bilbo replied dryly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bofur let out a merry laugh and slapped him on the shoulder once more. "Lighten up, you! We just escaped a beating from Azog and his idiots, twice! You should be relieved."

He snorted. "Sure, Thorin is wounded and unconscious, but hey! We're alive, drinks all round!"

"Great idea, we could all really use a drink." He winked down at Bilbo, blatantly ignoring his sarcastic tone and glare. "Hopefully those Eagles drink as well as they ride."

"Good Lord." Bilbo muttered under his breath as they entered the farmhouse and walked into a pitch black sitting room. Once they were all inside, Gwahir closed the front door behind them and strolled forward to open a door ahead of them, filling the room with warm yellow light.

"We've got to careful with this place at night, so don't go opening the front door unless it's pitch black inside the front room, got it?" She said with no hint of humour to her voice, not waiting for a reply, then sauntered into the lit room which was revealed to be a cosy kitchen once the group followed suit.

Oin and Dwalin made a beeline for the kitchen table, which Jamie cleared of its rather domestic fruit bowl without any direction, Dwalin grunting at him with thanks as Oin and him laid Thorin down upon the rough wooden surface, face up.

"I'll go fetch some towels for the blood. What else do you need?" Gwahir asked as she pulled off her vintage leather jacket and hung it by the door.

"Bring me my pack if you'll be so kind, it's in the sitting room. I've all I need." Oin replied matter-of-factly, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows as he peered down and looked at the blood soaked bandage covering Thorin's shoulder. He prodded gingerly around the red-soaked fabric, avoiding the wound, then pulled back a piece of fabric to get a closer look. The physician tutted under his breath, then turned and met Bilbo's eye. "This is going to be messy, lad. You don't need to see this, I've got plenty of help here. We won't think any less of you at all if you can’t handle it and want to leave."

Bilbo swallowed dryly. "I-I'd like to sit with him, if I can?"

Oin's serious expression cracked into a small smile, and his voice lowered to a gentle hum. "You can sit by his good shoulder and hold his hand, if you'd like? He's well and truly out for the count, he won't wake if you touch him."

"Thanks, I'd like that." He mumbled in response as he shuffled over to the opposite side of the table and pulled a chair over, gingerly taking Thorin's large rough hand in both of his as he sat down.

Gwahir re-entered the room, towels under one arm and and Oin's bag slung over her shoulder, both which she deposited on the table next to the physician. "What do you need me to do? I've removed bullets before, but usually on hand are just tweezers and whiskey." She grinned, pointing to the liquor cabinet over her shoulder with her thumb.

He chuckled, opening his pack. "Lucky I packed saline, so no whiskey tonight I think. Well, untill were done here... We could all probably use one after."

“You read my mind." She let out a tired huff, then turned and started going through the kitchen. "I'll get you some kidney dishes to disinfect everything in."

"Good idea, I haven’t any room in this small bag for any." He pulled a small pouch out of his bag, went to the sink and began washing his hands with hospital grade soap, then pulled on some blue gloves and returned to Thorin's side. "Just put them down next to him here, thank you lass."

Gwahir hummed in response and put two clean white bowls above Thorin's shoulder and hovered, waiting for her next instructions. The two of them worked together efficiently to remove the bullet and stitch Thorin back up, Bilbo choosing instead to focus on Thorin's hand in his, knowing if he looked up at Oin stitching his shoulder he would probably feint.

Half an hour later, Oin let out a pleased sigh and pulled his gloves off, clapping Gwahir on the back. "And Thorin Durin will live to see another day. Thank you, lass. You've been a great help, it's always a pleasure working with someone who knows what they're doing."

She shrugged. "It was the least I could do. We're lucky he's knocked out, performing surgery on a conscious patient is always harder. Unconscious people don’t squirm and whine."

Oin laughed tiredly, then winked down at Bilbo. "We've Bilbo to thank for that, he's the one who did the knocking out. Thorin's a real fusspot when he's being stitched up, he did us a favour."

Bilbo spluttered, looking up at them with disbelief. " _I_ knocked him out? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Lad, you don't pass out from a shallow bullet wound to the shoulder, especially one as clean as this." He raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you by any chance tackle him to the ground when he was hit?"

"Perhaps..." Bilbo groaned, covering his face. "Oh my God I'm so embarrassed, I thought he was mortally wounded or something."

Oin shook his head. "You're the one who took him out, lad. Not that tiny piece of metal."

"Christ."

"Don't be like that, I should be rewarding you for doing it. Knowing Thorin, he'd have ignored it and carried on for the rest of the night, ensuring everyone else was safe before he even considered having his shoulder looked at. The thick-headed idiot would probably make the injury worse, too." He looked over at Dwalin and shot him a scathing look. "Which reminds me, you better get to bed and rest that shoulder of yours, I'm not restitching you tomorrow morning if you pull them. We'll worry about getting Thorin to bed."

Dwalin grumbled under his breath but didn't fight the older man, stood slowly, and made his way for the hallway. "Yessir."

"I'll check on you tomorrow, lad." Oin called out as Dwalin walked out the door, then looked up at Gwahir. "Any chance I can push the friendship and get you to lug our patient upstairs? You don’t have to be gentle, another hit to the head might snap some sense into him."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall."I'll get him to bed if you agree to go straight to bed yourself, you look ready to fall over."

"I won't argue with you, all this excitement tonight has me thoroughly exhausted. Wait, I almost forgot..." He started rustling through his bag, and made an _a-ha!_ noise when his fingers closed around a small white bottle of pills. "Bilbo, you should take these, for when Thorin wakes up. He's going to need something for the pain." Oin swivelled and threw the bottle at Bilbo, who caught it in one hand.

"Cheers." Bilbo replied, pocketing the pills without reading the label. 

"Well since that's sorted, it's time for us all to head to bed." Gwahir directed a stern look down at Oin, who was over a head shorter than her. "Go on, when you get upstairs the first room on the right is yours."

"You're too kind." He offered an exhausted grin up to her and shuffled out of the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he disappeared from sight. 

Bilbo winced as he stood up, his back creaking in protest. "Can I help at all with getting that prat upstairs?" 

"Just follow and make sure nothing falls off, I can handle this" She replied as she walked over to Thorin’s side, placing a hand on his good shoulder. "You two can have my room, I've the biggest bed."

"No, please, we can take any other room. I don't want to be a bother." He fussed, shaking his head.

Gwahir ignored him, choosing instead to focus on getting Thorin upright, sitting on the edge of the table and facing her. “I've made up my mind, good luck changing it." 

His shoulders slumped. "Fine, but let me do something tomorrow to help out, I want to make myself useful."

"You don't have to, but if you do want to I'm sure I can find something.” In one fluid movement, Gwahir bent over and pulled Thorin over one of her shoulders and stood up, groaning loudly and cursing colourfully under her breath. Thorin’s hands dangled uselessly and hit her in the lower back as she curled both arms around his legs that were pressed against her torso, and started slowly making her way for the hallway.

Bilbo gaped up at her in awe, then shook his head and remembered himself. “I-I appreciate it, I feel so far like I’ve done nothing worth writing home about. I really do want to help, not just blindly follow everyone and get in the way.” He let out a long breath, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. 

She turned around, eyes observing Bilbo keenly, and Thorin’s arms swayed comically from side to side from the movement. “You took out Azog, _unarmed_. That’s not _nothing_.” Gwahir raised an eyebrow, then continued down the hallway, Bilbo pottering behind. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ll work out your role soon, from what Gandalf’s told me, you’ve quite a road ahead of you."

“ _Please_ , don’t remind me.” He groaned, then paused. “Wait. How exactly did you meet Gandalf, then?"

Gwahir laughed softly under her breath as she started climbing the stairs, Thorin’s hands making light slapping noises as they hit the exposed skin of her back after every step. “ _Dramatically_ , as everything seems to be when he’s involved.” She snorted. "He saved my life, actually. Swooped down out of nowhere and pulled me out of gunfire, then stitched me right up. Last time I try to do business in Bethnal Green.” She huffed, then released a thankful sigh as she reached the top of the stairs. 

“What the hell was he doing in _Bethnal Green_?"

“A piece on gang violence, ironically. We were both in a dodgy underground bar, when a rigged poker game went sour. Long story short, I don’t do gambling jobs anymore and Gandalf and I have been in contact ever since.” She answered casually, then opened a door at the far end of the hallway with her free hand. “Get any blood on my favourite duvet and you’re in trouble."

He gulped and nodded, entering the room slowly as he took it in. It was furnished minimally, with a large king size bed in its centre under the room's only window, and an antique dark wood dressing table with a large mirror and matching wardrobe. The bed was covered in a rich blood-red velvet duvet, which matched the deep chestnut wood of the headboard startlingly, the small pillows scattered against it in the same hue in satin with gold embellished edges and tassels. The bedroom was simple, but it was cosy and lush.

“Pull back the sheets, I’ll plop him down."

“Alright.” He did as instructed, hurriedly shuffling forward as he reached the bed and pulled back the soft cream sheets. 

She heavily waddled forward, starting to feel the strain of carrying Thorin for too long, and dumped him unceremoniously on the bed on his side with his face smoothed into the pillows, then rolled her shoulders and let out a long relieved moan. “Christ that man is heavy."

“Mmmf… Bilbo?” Thorin groggily moaned, muffled by the pillow pressed against his face.

“And time for me to go!” Gwahir clapped her hands together and padded out of the room, closing the door quietly behind herself.

Bilbo huffed amusedly under his breath and perched on the side of the bed, rubbing Thorin’s back. “Morning."

Thorin groaned, burying his head deeper into the pillow. “Ugh, too bright."

“Ah, sorry.” He darted over to the doorway, flicked the lights off, and paused. “Can I turn something on? I don’t really want to trip on something and give myself a concussion. One head injury per room is probably enough.” Bilbo laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

“Concussion? Wha-"

“-I may or may have not have _accidentally_ knocked you out cold when Azog shot you."

He let out an amused huff. “Pull the other one.” The sounds of rustling sheets sounded, indicating Thorin was attempting to roll over, but as he did so he let out a pained hiss. “Bloody hell that hurts."

“Christ, don’t tell me you pulled your stitches already. Oin will have my head.” Bilbo felt his way over to the bed and pressed down on Thorin’s good shoulder as he tried to roll over again. “Slowly, here. Let me help you.” He gently pulled him around and supported his bad shoulder as Thorin sluggishly turned over.

Once Thorin was comfortably on his back, he let out a satisfied sigh. “Better."

Bilbo chuckled, then fluffed a pillow and slid it behind Thorin’s head. “Can I please turn a light on now?"

“If you must.” He replied petulantly, covering his eyes with one hand in preparation.

He tapped his hands down the side of the headboard, where he swore he saw a dangling light switch earlier. “Jesus, where is the damn-“ Bilbo found the switch, and turned it on. “-Aha!” Getting back to his feet, he took a step backwards and stifled a burst of laughter with his hand as he looked at the warm low-lit fairy lights that were tangled in the beige silk curtains dangling above the headboard. “Well, that’s the mood certainly set."

Thorin removed his hand from his face and looked up, then released a husky chuckle. “You going to seduce me, now?"

“Sure, why not. You’re wounded and recovering from a mild concussion, what can go wrong.” He put his hands on his hips, taking in Thorin’s dirty and bloodied torso. “Especially when you’ve made yourself so clean and pretty for me."

“Rude.” Thorin closed his eyes, and smirked. “Alright, I might be a tad worse for wear, but I won’t argue if you decided to do something about it."

“How _selfless_  of you, I’m so blessed.” He replied wryly.

He sighed. “Please? I feel disgusting."

“You look disgusting.” Thorin shrugged, then winced as he felt the stitches pull, and Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Fine, you class-A prat. I’ll clean you up.” He sighed theatrically and padded over to the ensuite, flicking on the light.

“Hey!” Thorin hissed, covering his eyes. “Bright!"

“I need to see what I’m bloody doing, you git. Just… hang on.” Bilbo scolded, frowning as he scanned the room for a dark towel, found a spare one folded on a shelf by the door, and wet it with some soap. He flicked the light off and sat back down next to Thorin, and started gently wiping the dirt away from his uninjured shoulder.

Thorin hummed happily and kept his eyes shut, a goofy smile playing about his face. “Feels good."

“No nodding off, you idiot.” He slapped the skin under his hand, and ignored Thorin’s groan. “I need to roll you over and do the other side too, and theres no way I can manage that feat on my own."

“Rude.” Thorin mumbled, but reopened his eyes.

“My, you’re snappy tonight. Well… this morning. It’s morning, yeah?” He peered behind him at the dressing table and squinted at the clock. “It’s… _Christ_ , it’s nearly four."

“Don’t know what you’re whinging about, I’ve had plenty of sleep.” Thorin teased, smirking up at him.

“Hey! That was a mistake, which I _have_ apologised for.” Bilbo replied indignantly, moving the wet cloth across to start mopping up the blood near his wounded shoulder. “Although Oin did thank me, he said you’re a right pain when you’re injured."

He harrumphed. “I’m a perfectly good patient."

Bilbo shot him a glare. “Oin seems to think otherwise.” He moved the cloth south, and brushed it over the dirt on Thorin’s abdominal muscles.

“Like you can talk.” Thorin snorted. “I seem to remember you fighting Oin when he tended to you after you feinted."

“Do you want me to stop what I’m doing?” He eyed Thorin challengingly, but continued his task when Thorin's shoulders drooped under his sharp gaze. “Heh, I thought as much.”

After a few moments Bilbo finished his task, then stood up and gently tapped the politician's uninjured shoulder. “Come on, sit up and let me get to your back.” He acquiesced without a complaint, and Bilbo slid into the bed behind him, straddling his back.

Thorin sighed contentedly at the first touch of the cool cloth to the caked-on blood. “That feels fantastic."

“I should think so, you’re _filthy_. Oh, and also your back is covered in muck."

“Hilarious.” Thorin purred, leaning back into the cloth to press in closer. “Use your nails a bit? It’s itchy."

“Sure, what did your last slave die of?” He replied sarcastically, but used more pressure with the washcloth.

A pleasant silence fell over the two, Thorin letting out a satisfied groan now and then when Bilbo scrubbed away at a particularly tough spot. As the tending-to continued, Thorin started slumping further and further down towards his knees, which were propped up against his chest, feeling his bones turn to jelly under his companion’s ministrations.

Bilbo diligently wiped the mess away, steering clear of the wound, and leant back against the headboard when he was finished. “Done, your highness.” A muffled groan sounded in front of him, somewhere from where Thorin was curled around his own knees, and he released an amused chuckle. “I should do this more often, if it makes you so pliant. Look at you, you’re like a giant cat."

“Shh, don’t ruin it.” Thorin patted Bilbo’s knee and yawned loudly. “Sleep?"

“Sounds fantastic.” He started to shuffle back so his legs weren’t wrapped around Thorin's, but was stilled as the politician made a displeased sound at the back of his throat. Without pre warning, Thorin caught the Hobbit's calf in a powerful hold and pulled him close so he was once again pressed against his lower back. “Hey! No manhandling!"

Thorin didn’t release his grip. “Stay, it’s cosy."

“For you, perhaps. There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping comfortably like this."

He groaned. “You’ll let out the cold."

If he wasn’t so adorable and sleepy Bilbo would be pissed, but there was no way he could get mad at the big grouchy lump slumped in front of him. “It’ll be comfier when we get the duvet over both of us and we're in bed, so stop fussing."

The hold on his calf lessened. “Fine. But I will only allow this if all clothes are removed."

“Thorin!” He scolded, slapping Thorin’s side. “We are staying in someone else’s bed. I’m not getting naked, it’s rude!"

He let out a displeased huff. “No trousers then. There is a trouser ban now in place. If you break this law… you have to give me another back rub."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “Oh really now?"

“Yes.” Thorin replied seriously, and started unbuttoning his trousers with his good hand. “Come on, clock’s ticking."

“You’re ridiculous.” He scolded but nevertheless pulled himself out of bed and started working at his own trousers. Once they were off, he looked down at his shirt and cardigan and felt like a bit of a tit. “And now I'm ridiculous."

The look Thorin shot him was positively filthy. “New rule. Everything but pants are illegal."

“How many bloody rules are you going to make, hmm?” He chided, hands on hips, looking utterly foolish as he stood there in front of Thorin, essentially naked from the waist down.

Thorin smirked. “As many rules as I see fit, for the person who knocked me out."

“Unfair!” Bilbo hollered, clambering onto Thorin’s lap, knees on either side of the taller man. “I apologised, it was a mistake!"

“Guess you’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.” Thorin teased, running his hands slowly down Bilbo’s chest, which the Hobbit stilled as soon as they reached below his navel.

“Absolutely _no_ funny stuff, this is our host’s bed!” Bilbo hissed, pushing Thorin gently back down so he was lying flat.

He used his good arm and started pulling off Bilbo’s cardigan. “Boring.” Thorin pulled one arm free, then the other, and threw the woollen item to the floor. 

“It’s not boring, it’s common decency!” 

“It’s _boring_.” Thorin slipped a hand under the back of Bilbo’s shirt, licking his lips as he watched Bilbo’s eyes roll to the back of his head when Thorin used his nails and scratched up the dip of his back.

“I may be able to be swayed otherwise."

“Oh really?” He asked playfully, hand now working at the buttons at the collar of Bilbo’s shirt.

“Maybe not if you take so damn long about it.” Bilbo swatted his hand away and sat up straight, undoing the buttons with both hands as he maintained heated eye contact with Thorin.

“Injured, remember.” 

“Yes, because you decided it was more important to kiss me against a tree than get to safety.” He scolded as he undid the last button, pulled his shirt off and tossed it uncaringly beside the bed.

Thorin’s hand lifted and curled around Bilbo’s back, pulling him down against his chest. “Can you blame me?” He whispered roughly as he laid a soft kiss to the underside of the Hobbit’s jaw.

“Ask me again later, brain’s a little fuzzy at the moment.” He turned his head and kissed Thorin roughly and passionately, with just the right amount of tongue to leave them both breathing raggedly when he pulled back. “For now, let’s get rid of those trousers and have a ridiculously long nap, sound good?"

He beamed up at him. “Best thing I’ve heard all night."

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaack!  
> Sorry about the update delay, everyone.  
> I was on holidays!  
> I know, worst excuse ever. But hey! Here's your next chapter a day earlier than I usually update!  
> So... don't hate me maybe? *cowers in corner*
> 
> My headcasting if you were interested:  
> Gwahir is the badass babe that is Gina Torres,  
> and Jamie is Ben Wishaw.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Babe'in Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome, and thoroughly appreciated.


	19. Bacon and Knives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lazy couple have a lie-in,  
> Bilbo explores downstairs,  
> and subsequently gets taught a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK WOW HELLO FRIENDS IT HAS BEEN A WHILE SORRY.  
> Work has been an absolute nightmare.  
> But I'm back. And with gifts!
> 
> I'll be posting a cheeky lil' smut chapter on the weekend, because you're all fab and also maybe because I initially wrote this as one massive fuck-off chapter which was far too long, so y'all can have two updates this week for being champions and sticking with this dumb story so long! 
> 
> But seriously though. You're all amazing.  
> -
> 
> Author's note: Possible content warning, discussion of past verbal abuse in a relationship.
> 
> -

A familiar smell crept under the bedroom door and up into Bilbo’s nose, making the hobbit scrunch said body part and open his eyes slowly in the warm early-afternoon light. 

“ _Bacon_."

Thorin’s muffled chuckle rang out, earning himself a playful slap to the ribs from the Hobbit. “ _Oof_! What was that for?"

“Being rude.” He sniffed the air again and released a pleased sigh. “Oh heavens, I never thought I’d smell that glorious smell again."

 “Someone's feeling overly dramatic this morning. Well. _Afternoon_.” Thorin murmured as he pulled Bilbo closer against his chest, tucking the shorter man's head under his chin. “And I can’t believe the smell of  _bacon_  woke you up."

Another slap was delivered to his side. “Leave off, I haven’t eaten in hours… Christ, I can’t actually remember my last meal."

“Dinner last night, we had Chinese at the motel."

The Hobbit groaned. “Shit, it feels like days ago."

He hummed in agreement and started running a hand along the exposed skin of Bilbo's back. "It's definitely been an eventful forty-eight hours."

Bilbo’s stomach made a loud gurgling growl, ruining any tender atmosphere that had descended upon the couple, the two bursting into childish sniggering.

“Alright. Any conversation can wait for now because this Hobbit right here needs to see what’s for breakfast.” He started to pull away from Thorin, but was stopped by one of the politician’s large hands circling around his upper arm. 

“They’ll come up and tell us when it’s ready, stay? Please?' He asked so gently that something in Bilbo’s chest tightened.

“Sure.” Bilbo replied just as quietly, and settled back against Thorin’s chest as a warm arm wrapped around the Hobbit once more. "What did you want to talk about?"

Thorin paused for a long moment, collecting his thoughts, and absentmindedly traced circular patterns with his index finger on Bilbo’s back. “So last night, well,  _early this morning,_  is still pretty foggy... how  _exactly_  did you render me unconscious?"

Bilbo leaned back so he could meet Thorin's eye. "I saved your life, you big clot. Azog was about to put a bullet in you somewhere  _important_  and I took him out before he could." He replied as casually as possible, still filled with a mix of embarrassment and remorse.

"Yes but  _how_  did you knock me out?" Thorin asked again, brow furrowing.

He bit his bottom lip worriedly. "I... ah... tackled you to the ground and Oin seems to think I smashed your head on a nearby rock."

The politician burst into booming laughter, the rich sound soothing Bilbo's nerves somewhat. "That is  _brilliant_. Did you see Azog's stunned face when you did it? I bet it was  _perfect_."

Completely taken off guard, Bilbo spluttered and shook his head. "I was far more busy thinking you were dead to be perfectly honest. I didn't really see his face before I knocked him out with a rock as well."

Thorin’s laughter doubled in volume, his shaking shoulders jostling the Hobbit about as he did so. "That bastard must still be reeling from it, I bet he never expected that from you." He gently reached over and cupped the side of Bilbo's face, his voice lowering to a soft murmur. " _Anyone_ would be a fool to underestimate you, I can't believe I ever did."

Bilbo was touched by the sentiment, but still raised an eyebrow defiantly. "So it only took me  _saving your fucking life_  for you to see that, hmm?"

He shook his head and chucked, then planted a lingering kiss on Bilbo's lips. "Just accept the apology, Ghivashel." 

"Fine." He grumbled under his breath and ignored Thorin's amused huff. "But you need to start being more careful out there, you were beaten up needlessly  _twice_  last night."

The arm around Bilbo's middle tightened. "I was only trying to protec-"

"-you were only being a  _fucking idiot_ , is what you were doing. Taunting those three thugs and then kissing me against that bloody tree instead of getting to safety." He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Thorin's furred chest. "You can't keep risking yourself for me, you're far more important than I am... You're the one who has to make it to Erebor."

"Bilbo..." Thorin spoke his name so brokenly and raggedly that it made the Hobbit wince. "You can't say that.” He gently pulled Bilbo up the bed so he could share the pillow that he was resting on. "We're going to do this  _together_ , all of us. No life is more valued than another, you can't think of yourself so poorly."

He dropped his gaze and stared down at Thorin's collarbone. “Yes, but you're the one who has to ruin Smaug and-"

"- _together_." Thorin lifted Bilbo's chin and tucked a stray curl behind his ear. "We do this together. And then after we're finished and Erebor has been reclaimed, we can start thinking of what we do next... just us."

“Wha-What did you want?" Bilbo asked timidly, simultaneously wanting to run away and kiss Thorin stupid so he couldn't reply.

Thorin's face cracked into a warm smile. “I’ll take whatever you're comfortable with and whatever you'll give me, Ghivashel." He planted a soft peck upon Bilbo's lips. "As long as there’s an ‘us’ somewhere in the future, I’m happy."

Bilbo positively melted. "Oh curse you and your bloody perfect way of putting everything." He groaned as he wrapped a free hand around Thorin's neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss; the touch of bare skin against skin as their chests and thighs brushed against each other amplifying the intimacy and electricity of the embrace tenfold.

The politician's fingertips digged into the soft skin of Bilbo's back as he wrapped a leg around his hip and pressed in close, the only sounds in the room their joining lips and ragged intakes of breath.

“Christ,  _more_." Bilbo moaned, arms frantically grappling around Thorin, desperate to be closer.

"What do you want, Bilbo?" Thorin answered breathily, and started kissing his way down the soft skin of his neck.

He arched his neck and let out a shaky breath. " _You_ , Thorin. I just want you."

Thorin paused his attentions and moved his head up the pillow to meet Bilbo's gaze. "That isn't exactly a clear invitation, Bilbo."

“Jesus, are you going to make me spell it out?" He released a frustrated huff, but then didn't push it any further when he caught the serious flash in Thorin's eyes. "I'm  _saying..._ if you're not going to pull your stitches and you're up for it,I would like us to have sex,  _please and thank you."_

"Oh  _Mahal_." Thorin surged forward and crashed their lips against each other once more, moaning against the Hobbit's mouth as he started licking with earnest into the kiss.

Ever so gently, Bilbo pushed Thorin into his back and straddled him, then leaned down to bite and kiss at the sharp line of his jaw. "So that's a  _yes_ then _,_ I take it?" He spoke between kisses and one rather obscene moan when Thorin's mouth found it's way to his collarbone and bit down, leaving an angry red mark in it's wake.

" _God_ , yes." Thorin throatily growled as he reached back and cupped Bilbo's arse, fingertips digging into the supple flesh. "You have no idea how crazy you make me about you, I’ve wanted this for so long.” His eyes scanned Bilbo up and down, darkening as he took in how ruined and debauched the Hobbit already was. “Just look at you, you're utterly gorgeous."  

Bilbo blushed and bowed his head, choosing to kiss at the stubble on Thorin's neck instead of making eye contact. "You talk too much."

He squeezed his hands and chuckled at Bilbo's indignant squawk. "And you need to stop fighting me every time I compliment you." 

“Shh, you." He half-heartedly chided as he made his way down Thorin's neck and ground their hips together, striving to distract Thorin from the conversation at hand.

Thorin bucked his hips up and bit his lip, but continued. “You're the loveliest man I've ever met, Bilbo. Do you really have no idea how stunning you are?"

“I’m not-"

The politician hushed him with a finger on his lips. “-how handsome, beautif-"

“-this shit again?" He cut in and sat up, crossing his arms. “Stop fussing over me, I’m none of those things!"

His fond smile evaporated, replaced by a concerned frown. "Bilbo, I only-"

"-Our eyes are covered, you have ten seconds to pull some clothes on!" Kili announced boisterously as he burst into the room with his hands over his eyes, Fili following suit.

"Oh for fuck’s sake." Bilbo cursed furiously as he wrenched himself off Thorin's lap and sat up beside him in the bed, pulling the rumpled duvet up to his neck and covering most of his exposed skin from sight. "What the hell do you two want?"

Kili peeped from behind his hand and grinned as he saw the flushed and slightly panting couple before him. "Thank God we covered our eyes, hey Fee?" He teased, cheekily elbowing his brother in the side.

"Well?" Thorin demanded, crossing his arms. "I'm sure there's a good reason for you two to burst in here uninvited?"

"Not to worry, we'll be quick and let you two get back to it in just a moment." Fili winked at Bilbo, who only frowned in response. Utterly unshaken, he took a step into the room and leaned against the doorframe. "Bombur's doing a fry-up, what did you two want for breakfast?"

"Alright you're forgiven, since it's about food." Bilbo slumped against the headboard, his irritation subsiding a pinch. "I'll have two of everything, but my eggs poached. Thorin?"

"The same." He pointed at Kili. "You will  _knock_   _on the door_  when it's ready, not just burst in. Didn't your mother teach you better manners?"

Kili shrugged. "I'm sure we'll remember them someday." He tapped his brother on the shoulder and pulled him away from the door. "We should leave them to it, you two have fun now."

Bilbo let out a dry bark of laughter. "Yeah, we're totally going to fool about with you two downstairs, jumping to conclusions on what we're up to."

"What you two do with each other is none of my business, right uncle?" Kili smirked at both of them and clasped the door handle. "Don't forget to be safe."

"Get out!" Thorin barked, throwing a pillow at the door just as it slammed shut, the muffled sound of his nephews' laughter seeping into the room. 

"Well, that was fun." Bilbo slid downwards until he was lying flat, then pulled the duvet up and over his head. "I'm just going to try sleeping away my mortification at being caught out by your nephews, wake me when breakfast is ready?"

Thorin pulled back the top of the duvet to peer down at him. "It wasn't that bad..."

"It was awful! They knew  _exactly_  what we were up to, and most definitely caught on to how puffed we were!" He pulled the covers back over his head and rolled onto his side so he faced Thorin, curling into a ball. "I'm having a nap. Hopefully I'll die of embarrassment, if I'm lucky."

"Bilbo..."

"Napping!"

He laughed fondly. "Fine, I'll wake you when it's ready." Thorin adjusted himself in his pants, mourning the loss of his potential release. "Sleep well."

"Mmhm." He responded halfheartedly, the reply muffled by the covers.

He stroked Bilbo's back and smiled when he heard his muffled sigh of contentment, then looked around the room for something to do. "Well, looks like I'll finally have some free time to read."

"Ssh. Napping."

"Yes, dear."

 

\---

 

Bilbo snuggled into the warm yet solid cushion that was under his head and felt his body turn to jelly as fingers began to run through his hair.

"Morning sleepy head."

He blinked groggily as he opened his eyes, met with the lovely sight of Thorin beaming down at him. "How long was I out?" 

"Just under an hour. Bombur popped in earlier, I asked him to delay our breakfast a little while longer." He glanced over at the clock. "It should be ready by the time you've woken up properly."

"Sounds heavenly." Bilbo looked down at what he was resting his head on, and let out an amused snort when he realised it was in fact Thorin and  _not_  a cushion, wincing when he saw the little drool puddle he'd made on Thorin's bare thigh. "Uh... And sorry about the leg."

"I don't mind." He continued his ministrations and started using his nails to gently scratch Bilbo's scalp, eliciting a satisfied groan from the man. 

"Christ, please don't stop." 

"I won't." 

A brief silence fell upon the two, Thorin contentedly reading with one hand and using the other to run his fingers through Bilbo's hair as the Hobbit slowly awoke from his nap. Once a few minutes had passed Thorin closed his book, laid it on the small bedside table and leaned back against the headboard, releasing a long breath.

"Done reading?" Bilbo asked hesitantly, sensing that the discussion was about to turn quite serious.

He shrugged, which Bilbo felt more than saw. "It was dry anyways, I've never had a real love of flowers."

That piqued his interest. "Flowers, eh? How  _Hobbity_  of you."

Thorin hummed in agreement. "Do you know any of the flower meanings at all?"

"My father taught me some when I was younger." He curled his arms around Thorin's leg and closed his eyes. "Go on, try me. Let's see if I'm not utterly useless."

"You're not useless." Thorin tutted, then cleared his throat. "So, if I gave you a white Camellia-"

 "-Thorin!" Bilbo slapped his leg, unphased when he heard him hiss. "I am _not_ adorable!"

"No you're right, I should have given you a Calla Lily."

"Even more ridiculous. Magnificent beauty,  _really_." He scoffed. "You know it's also tied to death?"

"I'll ignore that part." His hand stilled in Bilbo's hair. " _Magnificent beauty_  suits you well, I should say it more often."

Bilbo groaned. "Thorin, do we have to do this today?"

"If not today, then when? You obviously don't want to talk about it…” He took in a long breath. "Can we  _please_  talk about how you hate me complimenting you?"

He shrugged. "I just don't like the attention, it's as simple as that."

“But it’s not the attention, is it? I can see how uncomfortable you get, the only time you don’t squirm is when I call you Ghivashel, and that’s probably because it’s in a different language.” He slipped his hand down Bilbo’s back and started running his fingers up and down the smooth bare skin, trying to make the Hobbit feel at ease. “Look, I don’t want to have this conversation any more than you do, but we have to have it before it becomes a problem."

Bilbo hastily sat up and directed a withering glare at him. “ _Problem?_ "

“That was awful wording, I apologise.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, I… I care about you, it troubles me that you don’t like it when I say nice things about you."

“Yes… well… it’s not important. And none of your business.”

Thorin sighed. “What troubles you troubles me and I want to help you if I can. That’s sort of how relationships work."

He crossed his arms, frowning. “I’m just shy is all."

“Bilbo, we both know you’re not  _really_  shy…” He closed his eyes, taking in a rough breath. "Has this got anything to do with James at all?"

“Jesus fuck we are  _not_  talking about James.” He replied icily, no hint of humour to his tone.

“I heard what you said when Dwalin interviewed you all those weeks ago, how James was a real bastard about your body and manipulated you. I know the breakup was messy. Just…” Thorin opened his eyes and released a sigh. “Please, Bilbo. Help me understand."

“Well there’s nothing to fix, alright! I just get uncomfortable when someone as fucking gorgeous as you keeps on saying ridiculous things about me being even remotely attractive!” He frowned and bunched his hands in the duvet, voice raising to a near-shout. 

“Look, I know I can’t say anything that will change your mind, you’re the one who has to start working on your opinion on yourself. Just…” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, trying to find the right words. “…I think it would be a good idea to stop putting yourself down all the time, and maybe work on accepting compliments when I give them to you, not shrug them off instantly? I’m not lying when I say that I adore your body, but even more, I adore the person inside it."

He slumped his shoulders and stared down at his hands. "I suppose I was just told so many times that I wasn’t enough that at some point I started to believe it."

"Oh _Bilbo_..." He leaned forward and kissed Bilbo’s forehead. “Please let me try to help you? I’ll probably be rubbish, but I’ll do my best."

"Alright." He laughed softly. “And I thought we weren’t allowed to put ourselves down anymore?"

“You’re right.” He kissed his brow again. “No more negativity, yes?"

“If I must…"

“Please?” Thorin asked so gently and softly that any argument in Bilbo instantly faded.

“ _Fine_.” He bit his bottom lip. “But I’ll still feel uncomfortable when you compliment me."

“Look, I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to, please know that. I won't compliment you too often if you wish, but I think it would be a good idea for you to be more open to them?” He cupped the side of Bilbo’s face, thumb brushing up and down as he continued. "Please believe me when I say that you’re the most beautiful sight I have ever beheld."

Bilbo looked up at him, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’re too good for me, you know?"

Thorin raised an eyebrow wryly. “Hey, I thought we agreed on no self-deprecation?” 

“One last one, for old time’s sake.” He huffed, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “I promise."

“It better be, otherwise I’ll have to turn up the charm, double my quota of daily compliments and spoil you rotten.” Thorin smirked, voice teasing.

“We can’t have that now, can we?" He replied cheekily, sliding up Thorin's legs to curl into his side.

Thorin lifted his arm so Bilbo could snuggle in close, and planted a kiss in his auburn curls when he was settled. “No, we can’t have that at all."

 

\---

 

“Christ, that was good.” Bilbo pushed the breakfast tray down his legs on the bed, patting his stomach happily.

Thorin hummed in agreement, the stodgy breakfast making him feel relaxed and sleepy. “Should we go downstairs and say hi to everyone?"

The scowl Bilbo shot up at him would have withered the strongest of heart, but Thorin was too cosy and too full to care. “You’re not going anywhere you big idiot. You just took a decent dose of codeine with your breakfast; the only place you’re going is la-la land."

“I didn’t need it. I don’t know why you made such a fuss.” He yawned, leaning back against the plush pillows.

Bilbo’s scowl darkened. “I saw you wince when you leaned forward for the breakfast tray, don’t think you’re fooling anyone.” He slid out of bed and stretched, smiling coyly as he caught Thorin’s appreciative smirk. “Don’t look at me like that, I have to get dressed."

“Just appreciating the fine view.” Thorin slid further down the bed, sighing contentedly. “But maybe a nap is a good idea."

He snorted, then bent over and started pulling on his crinkled trousers. “Now I know why Oin thanked me for knocking you out, you’re a rubbish patient."

Thorin snorted. “He overreacts when I get injured and so do you."

Bilbo turned around in the middle of buttoning up his shirt and glowered down at him. “You got shot, Thorin. Now shut up and have a nap."

“Yes, love.” He smacked his lips contentedly and rolled onto his good side, missing the blush that had creeped onto Bilbo’s cheeks.

Shaking his head, Bilbo pulled himself back together and continued clothing himself, utterly taken off guard by the endearment. “ _Love?_ ” He mumbled under his breath, staring at the ground. “Boy, am I in trouble."

He hurriedly finished dressing himself, unsure where he had left his bag the previous night, and fretted in front of the mirror as he tried to smooth the previous day's rumpled clothes with his hands. Giving up, he tucked his button-down into his trousers and squared his shoulders. “Right. Downstairs."

Tiptoeing across the room, Bilbo creeped out into the hallway and gently closed the door behind, sighing thankfully as he turned the door handle and didn’t hear Thorin stir, his careful movements barely louder than a whisper.

The creaky stairs were another story entirely.

Each wooden step had its own piercing groan or squeak, and after he had tried to silently descend down half the staircase to no avail, he gave up and clomped down them in his oxfords aiming for a Band Aid-esque ‘ _get it over and done with_ ’ approach. Once he reached the carpeted floor awaiting him he released a pleased hum, closed his eyes, rounded the corner and walked straight into an unsuspecting Ori who was nose-deep in a ratty dog-eared book.

“Ah, Bilbo!” Ori slammed the book against his chest with fright, eyes wide. “You scared the shit out of me!"

Bilbo laughed brightly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Sorry, should have been looking where I was walking.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “We should keep it down, though. Thorin just took some meds, he’s sleeping it off."

He nodded and pulled Bilbo into a sitting room just off the main hallway, which was comfortably and cosily furnished like the rest of the farmhouse, filled with well-loved sofas, bookcases, and a small fireplace in the corner. Ori ushered Bilbo over to a large olive green two-seater next to the unlit fireplace and sat next to him. “So, how is he?"

“As fine as he can be after just being shot and mildly concussed.” He rolled his eyes. “You know, fighting me every time I try to give him medicine or ask how he is.”

Ori snorted, tucking his legs under himself as he made himself comfortable. “He’s always been like that, first in line to help out but as soon as he needs help." He tutted. “Well, you know how he is, he's frustratingly selfless sometimes... But enough about him, how are you doing? It's been a big two days, how’s everything settling in?"

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the sofa. “Still coming to terms with the fact that I don’t have a fucking teahouse anymore, to be honest. Oh yeah, and dealing with being shot at. That was new.” 

The P.A’s hand clasped his knee. “Did you want to talk about it?"

“Not really.” Bilbo raised an arm and started massaging his left temple. “Like... I’m fine. I am, I swear. It’s just… coming to terms with it I suppose? I’m sure it will become more real when I get back” His voice drifted off. “That is, if I do get back."

Ori slapped his knee, snapping him out of it. “Alright two things. One: shut up, of course you’re going home after all of this is done. Two: It’s real, it’s happening, and it’s only going to get worse.” He sat up straight and turned his body so his knees were digging into the side Bilbo’s thigh. “Erebor is going to be well protected by Smaug’s men, there is a very high chance you’re going to get shot at again."

“Christ.” He pivoted his head so he could peer up at him but remain slouched on the sofa. “Just how bad are we talking?"

“Smaug’s men are privatised militia, just guns for hire. He's ridiculously wealthy and guards Erebor like a dragon guards his horde, you work it out."

He swore under his breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, I suppose that’s that settled then."

“I’m sorry, what?” Ori asked, utterly lost.

Bilbo pulled himself off the couch, groaning as he did so. “This tea-drinking, book-reading, crochet-extraordinaire of a Hobbit needs to learn how to defend himself.” He crossed his arms. “But no guns, I wouldn’t touch one with a ten-foot pole.... Who should I go talk to?"

“Fili is brilliant at throwing knives, that could be somewhere to start?" Ori offered, shrugging.

“Knives… I suppose I can handle that.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, rolling back on his heels. “So where do I find him?"

Ori stretched his legs out so he ended up lying sidewards across the sofa and pulled out the novel he was reading a moment ago from his back pocket. “Check the barn, I think I saw him hovering around the motorcycles earlier."

“Brilliant, thanks.” He went to leave the room, but was stopped when Ori called out his name.

“Bilbo, don’t loose a finger, yeah? I really don’t want to deal with a half-drugged, wounded, overprotective Thorin this afternoon. I have important things to attend to, like finish my book."

He chuckled. “I’ll try my best."

“Good.” He slumped down and opened to his current page in the well-loved book. “Have fun, and please don’t die."

 

\---

 

Bilbo peered around the side garden, looking for a trace of the blonde-haired troublemaker. “Fill?” He traipsed over to the barn entry, taking a cautious step inside. “Hello?"

“They’ve gone to get supplies.” Gwahir appeared out of nowhere, surprising the Hobbit and making him release an undignified shriek. 

“I swear to God if one more person comes out of nowhere and gives me a scare today, I’ll have a bloody coronary."

She leant against the barn wall and laughed quietly under her breath, wiping her dirty oil-covered hands with a rag. “My apologies, I’ve been told before that I have a terrible habit of unconsciously sneaking up on people.” Her eyes twinkled. “So, may I ask why you were after Fili? I’m sure I could help with whatever you’re after while he’s out."

“It sounds ridiculous, don’t worry. I’ll ask him when he gets back."

“It might be a while.” She threw the oily rag onto a worktop behind her and crossed her arms. “We can’t hit the same Tesco’s too often otherwise people will recognise us, they’ve gone for quite a long ride."

“I was just… well, after some knife throwing lessons, actually."

Gwahir raised an impeccably manicured eyebrow. “Really? How interesting.” She pushed off the wall with a shoulder and walked over to him, stopping two paces away. “My Evie is brilliant with knives, if you want I can get her to teach you?"

He swallowed dryly. “I don’t want to be a bother, I’m sure you all have more important things to get up to."

“Nonsense, you’re a friend of Gandalf’s, therefore a friend of ours.” She clapped him on the back. “Wait here a moment, I’ll go get her."

“Please don’t bother yourself, I can just wait later-"

“-I’m going to get her, I know she’s free today and would love to share her passion for knife work with someone.” Her tone turned commanding. “Stay, I’ll get her."

“Sure, thanks.” He responded meekly, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Her stern expression transformed into a warm smile. “There’s stools in the corner if you want to sit down, just mind the bike parts. Be back in a moment.” She clapped him once more on the shoulder and sauntered out, leaving an increasingly nervous Hobbit in her wake. 

Bilbo looked around the empty barn, its interior turned into a makeshift garage and filled to the brim with a treasure trove of tools and parts. Spotting a free stool, he padded over and sat himself down, wringing his hands in his lap. “Alright Bilbo, calm down. You’re just going to get knife lessons… from a wanted criminal. Nothing to worry about.” He mumbled under his breath and froze as he looked up and saw just who was entering the room with Gwahir.

“ _You_.” She spat, her perfectly outlined eyes squinting dangerously over at him.

He cleared his throat. “Hello again.” Luckily for him, it was the female biker he had dodged the night previous. Fantastic.

Gwahir looked between them, a smirk blossoming on her face. “I see you two have met."

“This  _genius_  decided to run off into the woods with Azog on his tail, instead of getting onto my bike and to safety.” Evie scowled down at him, bunching her hands into fists at her sides. 

“Well he’s here and in one piece, so please do calm down.” Gwahir placed a gentle hand at the small of her back and kissed her cheek. “You know how much I love it when you get all fired up, but I fear you’re frightening the man."

She rolled her eyes and leant into Gwahir’s side. “Fine.” 

“Perfect.” Gwahir pushed her forwards in Bilbo’s direction. “You two have fun, I’ll pop in later to see how you’re faring."

Bilbo looked desperately between the two, sending a pleading look Gwahir’s way. “Uhh are you sure-"

“-I’m sure you both will get on famously.” She slapped Evie’s arse, pushing her even closer to the timid man. “And play nice, Evie."

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll try my best. If he’s utterly useless, I won’t be responsible for my actions."

“Yes you will, or you’ll be sleeping on the couch for a week."

Evie’s smirk fell. “Alright."

“Glad that’s all cleared up.” Gwahir clapped her hands together with a sense of finality and strolled out of the barn, humming happily under her breath.

“Come on, while we’re still young.” Evie waved for Bilbo to walk over to the opposite end of the barn, which was set up as a makeshift firing range with bales of hay and paper targets lining one of the decrepit wooden walls. “We’ll start with blunt knives first so you don’t slice anything important. Once I’m happy with your technique, we can try with sharpened ones.” Her smile turned predatory. “Or perhaps we’ll just throw you in the deep end and start with them now?"

He gulped. “Blunt seems fine."

“Thought as much.” She paced over to a large aluminium table, which sported a rather intimidating spread of weaponry, and scanned the assortment before her with her fingertips before she made an  _a-ha!_  noise and picked up a small black pouch. “These are my old training knives, they’re small and weighted well, so should be pretty easy to start off with."

“Right. Brilliant.” He replied shortly as the pouch was unceremoniously shoved into his hands.

“Now I saw you hit Azog in the hand and the head last night, so I know your eye is good. We just need to work on your precision.” She turned his shoulders to face the targets, pulled out one of the dull knives, and placed it in his hand. “Just throw it how you feel comes naturally, I’ll watch and tell you how rubbish you are, and we can start from there."

Bilbo snorted. “Great, no pressure."

“Of course not.” She walked behind him, sitting on a lone hay bale specifically placed there for shit talking. “Come on, show off. Let me see that natural talent."

He rolled his eyes, placed the spare knives on the ground to his right, and rolled his shoulders. “Right. Natural talent."

“Today, please?"

“Yes yes, just give me a moment.” He looked down at his posture, bent slightly at the knee, and let the knife fly. It clattered to the ground loudly somewhere behind the hay bale targets and Evie’s exasperated sigh rang out around the large space.

“It’s going to be a long afternoon."

 

\---

 

Bilbo collapsed onto the spectators hay bale, breathing heavily. “Why the hell is this so exhausting?"

She walked over and pulled him up by his arm, ignoring his whinging. “You’re using muscles you probably haven’t used in a while, but you’ve got to keep trying. Already you’ve improved so much and it’s only been an hour, keep going."

He groaned. “Exactly, it’s been a bloody hour and I still haven’t hit the centre of that bloody target."

“This is your first time! Stop getting so wound-up.” Evie nudged him forward. “Come on, try again."

“I’m just going to miss it!” Bilbo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought this was going to be so much easier, Christ."

Evie stalked over and stood in front of him, crossing her arms. “Alright answer me this. Why are you doing this? You’re obviously not the bloodthirsty type, so why learn knife throwing now?"

Bilbo shrugged. “I just want to help out, is all. So far I’ve just run and hid whenever anything remotely dangerous happens, if I keep doing that I’ll probably wind up injured... or worse."

“So you’re doing it because you feel you have no choice?"

“No, I just want to be able to protect my fucking friends and not be a helpless, useless tit!” He proclaimed loudly, glaring up at her.

She smirked. “Good, then stop worrying about your footwork and posture and just throw the fucking knife and defend your friends, hmm?” 

He frowned. “And how the hell do I stop thinking?"

“Alright, so when I throw, I just think about the target and why I need it to hit it. What usually works for me is the need to protect Jamie and Gwahir."

The Hobbit eyed her incredulously. “Are you seriously telling me to think about my loved ones? Is this ridiculousness really happening right now?"

Evie levelled him with a withering look. “It works, don’t knock it.” 

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll try again.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, plucked another blunt knife out of his pocket and let out a long breath. “Right. Loved ones.” His mind instantly went to Thorin, and he let out a sarcastic huff. “How cliché.” The knife flew across the barn and hit the edge of the target for the first time that afternoon. “Alright that can just fuck right off."

“Told you, it focuses you.” She gloated, sitting herself down on the hay bale behind him. “Now go again."

“Oh really, how original of you to say so. That's the first time I’ve heard those words out of your mouth today.” He drawled, pulling a dull knife out of his back trouser pocket.

“Shut it and throw, pretty boy."

“Fine.” He stilled himself, focused, rolled his eyes as the thought about defending Thorin again, and let the knife fly. This time, it landed in the outer ring of the target. “This is a _joke_."

“Nope, go again."

“Having fun, ladies and gents?” Gwahir strolled in, her arm slung over Jamie’s shoulders, the man watching Bilbo with keen interest.

“This is the most fun I’ve ever had.” The Hobbit responded dryly, still staring intently at the knife that was imbedded in the target.

“I think someone needs a break.” Jamie slipped out of Gwahir’s grip and strolled over to Evie, planting a kiss on her cheek. “You didn’t break him did you, love?"

“Of course not, I was the perfect teacher."

Gwahir snorted. “Let’s give the man a break. They’re staying the night so the wounded can rest, we have tomorrow to train him again."

That caught his attention. “We’re staying another night?"

“You sure are.” She nodded, chuckling under her breath at his hopeful tone. “Oin doesn’t think it’s wise travelling so soon after nearly half of you were injured, so you’ll be leaving tomorrow as soon as it turns dark."

He sighed. “Thank you for letting us stay, really.” Bilbo broke his eyes from the target and offered her a soft smile. “You’ve all been so accommodating, especially you, letting Thorin and I stay in your room."

She waved the comment away. “Don’t mention it, Evie’s bed is more than big enough for the three of us."

“Oh now I feel even worse for making you all share a bed!” He started fussing, then paused as he saw the three share a look and start laughing under their breaths. “What? What am I missing?"

Gwahir shot them both a silencing look. “We don’t mind sharing a bed, trust me. We’ve been doing it for the past two years."

“Right, you must be pretty used to it, staying in tiny safe houses and the like."

“No, there’s always plenty of beds."

Bilbo frowned. “But if there’s plenty of beds, then-"

“-We’re in a relationship, dear. It’s not  _just_  a bed that we’ve shared.” Jamie teased, pinching Evie in the side until she swatted his hand away.

“Oh. Right.” Bilbo looked around the three, who were all eyeing him amusedly, and shook his head. “Heavens I really am from the country, aren’t I?"

Gwahir laughed brightly and strolled over. “So is Jamie, actually. Just north of Hobbiton."

He cupped his head in his hands. “I’m such a tit, Christ."

“Stop it, you’re fine.” She soothed, pulling his hands away from his face. “You haven’t offended us, if anything you’ve just entertained us for the afternoon."

“So… if you don’t mind me asking, you’re all in an open relationship then?"

“Exclusively just us three, actually.” Evie piped in, pinching Jamie’s cheek. “This man is ours and only ours. I mean look at this sod, how can you resist kissing this face?"

Sensing Bilbo’s growing embarrassment, Gwahir stepped in and stopped the two’s teasing. “As long as these two reign in their attitudes, we do just fine."

“Gee thanks, love.” Jamie replied sarcastically, leaning his head on Evie’s shoulder.

“So, are the other members of your gang into the same… thing?” Bilbo asked delicately, fully aware that he was probably asking too many questions, but was thoroughly intrigued which overruled his Baggins politeness.

“We’re the only Polyamorous relationship in the group, actually. A few of our members are gay, bi or pansexual, and of course straight, but we don’t discriminate based on sexuality.” She shrugged. “It’s never been an issue and never should be one."

“Can we _please_ stop talking about how revolutionary our gang is and get some tea?” Jamie whined, offering Gwahir his most convincing pout.

“Come along, you two.” She gestured for them to leave the room, and leant down to whisper in Bilbo's ear. “We’re going to have tea in the garden and everyone else is downstairs or out and about. Just letting you know that you and Thorin have a bit of privacy."

He blushed bright red. “And why are you telling me this?"

She winked. “Might be the last bed you two share for a while, may as well enjoy it."

“It’s  _your bed_! No!"

Gwahir waved Bilbo’s indignant squawk away. “I can always change the sheets, you’re far too fussy for your own good.” Before Bilbo could offer another retort, she took the blunt knives out of his hands and back pocket, turned him towards the door, and pushed him forward. “Go check on your man."

“There’s no way in hell I’m doing  _anything_  in your bloody bed."

“Sure.” She teased, nudging him forward again. “Off you pop."

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“And _you_ have your man to attend to.” She teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He groaned. “Fine, I’ll go. But there won’t be any funny business going on."

She winked at him slyly. “Of course not. Have fun."

 

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh heh heh.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Babe beta: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)


	20. Option Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Utter filth.  
> That's literally all you need to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this weekend in Sydney is the Mardi Gras!  
> Or Pride, as you kids overseas call it.
> 
> And in celebration, here! Have 4K-ish of unadulterated gay filth. Enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

“I swear to God, everyone under the sun seems to think you and I are having it off tonight.” Bilbo grumbled as he entered the bedroom, closed the door behind himself, then turned and felt his breath hitch as he took in the view before him.

Thorin was propped up in bed, still in only his pants, and was reading a book and tapping his bottom lip whilst the golden afternoon light silhouetted him beautifully; the opaque curtains dancing in the wind and mussing the top of his hair as they swayed to and forth.

The politician slid a bookmark into the novel he was reading and looked up, shooting a sly grin up at him. “And why is that?"

Bilbo gulped dryly. “No reason.” He looked down at his straw-covered trousers and dirty hands, then back up at Thorin. “I think I might have a shower though."

“Would you like me to join you?” Thorin offered, his voice deep and gravely from sleep, just the right depth to send an interested jolt straight to Bilbo’s cock. 

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” He replied quickly as he bolted into the bathroom, locking the door behind himself. Once inside, he looked around the small ensuite and let out a relived breath. “Alright Bilbo, this is just a shower, you’re not finally going to be shagged senseless by the gorgeous man in the next room.” He looked down at his half-hard prick and cursed under his breath. “Perhaps a cold shower is in order."

He showered a few degrees colder than he usually did, ignored his need, and cleaned himself rather diligently. After all of his watery objectives were met, he leant against the shower wall and stared down at the plughole for a few minutes, his mind blissfully blank.

But this wasn’t the time to spend an hour in the shower, Thorin was awake and in the next room. And he had to… check on him to ensure he was okay. Yes. Just check on him… nothing more.

Bilbo dried himself off and wrapped a towel around his waist, cursing under his breath that he had forgotten once more to retrieve his bag from downstairs which contained all of his clean clothes. “Right. Guess this will have to do for now.” He bent down and scooped up his dirty clothes, squared his shoulders, and walked out of the bedroom… to find Thorin completely starkers, expectantly waiting for him with a hungry expression on his face.

The pile of clothes was instantly forgotten and dropped unceremoniously to the floor.

“I was wondering when you’d come out.” Thorin teased, his good arm folded behind his head and blankets pushed down his body just above his prick, revealing a downwards trail of coarse dark hair. His pants had been thrown to the other side of the room and had landed in a heap a metre away from Bilbo’s bare feet, and when the Hobbit caught sight of them he released a needy whine. 

“Fucking hell.” Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand, taking in Thorin’s impressive form from the dip of his hips to the tip of his head. “Now _that_ is a lovely sight to come out from the bathroom to."

“Perhaps you should come closer and take a better look, just to make sure?” He purred, shifting his hips so the blankets slid another two inches down his bare body, exposing the tip of his flushed cock. 

Bilbo licked his lips. “I’m sure I can arrange something.” He took a few steps forward and stopped when his shins touched the side of the bed. “Exactly as I thought, you're still just as lovely close up.” 

“I still don’t think you’re quite close enough.” Thorin reached forward and took his hand gently, leading him down onto the bed next to him. 

He slipped under the covers and settled into Thorin’s side, closing his eyes contentedly. “Mmm, much better. You were right."

“I do have exceptionally good ideas from time to time.” Thorin wrapped his good arm around Bilbo's shoulders, bringing him in close, and nuzzled into the crook of the Hobbit’s neck. “So why did you run away from me this afternoon? I woke up to an empty bed and to be honest it was quite rude of you."

“Uhh… I was learning to knife throw, actually."

The politician froze, mid-kiss at Bilbo’s throat. “Did you just say _knife throwing?_ "

“Well, I was feeling a little useless and I don’t want to ever use a gun, so I may have had some advice from Evie and spent this afternoon throwing blunt knives at a target? But I did get rather good at it and-"

His rambling was cut short by Thorin grabbing the side of his face and pulling him into a frantic kiss with no small measure of tongue, the intensity of said kiss making Bilbo’s toes curl. After a few minutes of messy kissing and grabbing, he broke them apart and rested their foreheads against each other, breathing raggedly. “You can _knife throw_ now?"

“Yes? But very poorly… Why are you so interested?” He asked between deep breaths, the press of his naked chest against Thorin’s alone sending electric shocks straight to the base of his prick. 

“Just _imagining_ you all focused and throwing blades…” Thorin released a deep growl at the back of his throat, pounced onto Bilbo, and rolled them both so he was hovering above the shorter man, one thigh ending up at each of the Hobbit's sides. 

Bilbo reached up and cupped the side of his face. “It’s not that exciting, I assure you. It was mostly just me sweating and cursing."

Thorin’s expression turned positively filthy. “We could easily recreate the sweating and cursing now, if you were interested?"

“I’m sure I can be convinced.” He propped himself up on his elbows and gave Thorin a long, lingering kiss, then fell back onto the pillows. “Well, what I mean is that if you were interested, I would like to get back to that part earlier today when we were about to have some brilliant sex?"

He leant down and kissed the tip of Bilbo’s nose gently. "You’re sure?"

“So sure.” Bilbo smiled up at him brightly and ran both hands down Thorin’s bare sides.

“Well we should probably get rid of this first…” Thorin trailed off as he manoeuvred himself down Bilbo’s thighs and pulled off the wet towel, revealing Bilbo’s pink and rather interested cock. “Oh yes, that will do quite nicely.” He murmured under his breath as he teasingly ran his fingertips up and Bilbo’s length, making the shorter man buck up his hips and release a needy whine.

“Jesus fuck.” He bit his bottom lip, his nails digging into the mattress below.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, darling.” Thorin moaned and leaned down so he could mouth at the base of Bilbo’s prick.

“Thorin!” He hissed, involuntarily rolling his hips so his cock brushed against Thorin’s cheek. “Oh God that was so rude, I’m so sorry."

“Don’t apologise, I was just about to make my way over there anyway.” The politician chuckled and moved upwards so he could lick a heavy strip up his entire length, pausing at the tip to lap at the slit.

“Bloody hell.” Bilbo scrunched his eyes shut, focusing on the attentions to his prick. “Please slow down, ah, I don’t want this to be over too quickly."

Thorin’s ministrations halted, and he rested his head on Bilbo’s hipbone. “Can I touch anywhere else or do you need a breather?"

Bilbo let out an amused huff. “Anywhere else is free reign, I’m just a touch over sensitive today is all."

“I can work with that.” And that was the only warning Bilbo received before Thorin slid up his torso and started lapping at his left nipple, which made him let out a ragged, broken moan. “Christ on a motherfucking _bike_ , Thorin!"

He only laughed darkly in response and doubled his attentions, gripping Bilbo’s waist as he did so, the shorter man arching up into the motions and grinding his hips against Thorin’s chest. “God you’re so sensitive Bilbo, it’s amazing."

“Less talking, more licking.” He chided breathily, biting his bottom lip and muffing a loud groan when Thorin used a hint of teeth.

"So demanding." Thorin placed a long, hard lick against Bilbo’s other nipple, torturously slow, reveling in how utterly desperate it made the Hobbit’s gasps for air. 

“Don’t be a tease!” He groaned, fingertips digging into Thorin’s upper arm as he thrashed his head from side to side. “I said don’t finish me off too quickly, not for you to take your sweet bloody time!"

“Make up your mind.” Thorin nosed his side, then sat up and shot him a heated look. “Or we could change it up and try something new?"

Now that got his attention. “And w-whatever did you have in mind?” He asked shakily, his voice giving away just how far gone he already was.

Thorin placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and leant forward, pressing in close to whisper breathily in his ear. “How long since you’ve been fingered properly?” He licked along the shell of his ear, voice lowering to a throaty whisper. “Not including the last time you worked yourself open, alone in your bed."

“ _Fucking hell_.” Bilbo curled his toes, bunching them in the covers. “Too long, it’s been years."

He nosed at Bilbo’s ear. “How would you feel about breaking the drought?"

“That there’s a lot of talking talking place when I’d rather have your hand in between my thighs."

“I think I can manage that.” Thorin purred, leaning back so he could meet Bilbo’s gaze. “Did you pack any lube?"

Bilbo’s flush deepened. “Yes, but I don’t know where my bag is and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving this damn bed."

“I’d hoped you came prepared.” He pecked Bilbo on the lips and climbed out of the bed to rustle through the bedside drawer. “I'll have a look, there should be some hiding about.”

“Try the bathroom.” He ordered as steadily as he could, quite enjoying the view as a very naked Thorin started bending over and looking through the nearby chest of drawers.

“On it.” He padded barefoot into the bathroom, Bilbo staring at his magnificent arse as it disappeared from view, and the sound of opening and closing drawers started echoing around the small tiled room.

“Anything?"

Another drawer was opened. “Nothing as yet."

“Shit. Any ideas?"

“I’m not using a substitute." The rustling continued, and then Thorin cursed under his breath. "I won’t risk hurting you, and we’re not a pair of horny teenagers who are too embarrassed to pick up a packet of lube from Boots. It’s either option one: lube, or option two: we can sort out something else to do."

Bilbo sighed, rolling over onto his back. “Like what?"

Thorin popped his head out of the door and shot Bilbo a predatory look. “There’s quite a lot of things I’d love to do to that gorgeous body of yours that doesn't involve lube, especially one that involves that pert arse of yours."

He bit his bottom lip. “I’m open to suggestions."

Forgoing the current task at hand, Thorin stalked his way across the room, maintaining intense eye contact with Bilbo the entire way. “Roll over."

“I beg your pardon?"

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing.” He bent down and cupped Bilbo’s jaw whilst he kissed him so roughly that afterwards he was straining for breath.

“Rolling over sounds like a good idea.” He turned onto his belly, shoved a pillow under his arms, and rested his chin on his hands. “What did you want me to do?"

“Just relax.” Thorin placed a hand at the small of Bilbo’s back, then slowly trailed his fingertips down one cheek and to the inside of his thigh, then gently pushed it up the bed so his knee was bent at a ninety degree angle. 

“Thorin?"

“If you want me to stop, just say so. But I think you’re going to enjoy this.” He settled between Bilbo’s thighs and pushed the Hobbit's other leg up the bed so he was spread bare before him. “Like I said. Just relax."

“Thorin, I hardly think that-JESUS CHRIST IS THAT YOUR TONGUE!?"

He only chuckled in response and lapped his tongue at the ring of muscle once more, tongue trailing all the way from Bilbo’s perineum up to the cleft of his arse. “Yes, yes it is.” 

“But… it’s all… dirty… _Thorin_!” He hissed Thorin’s name as the taller man teased at Bilbo's entrance, the tip of his tongue momentarily dipping into the heat of him. “Oh _fuck_."

Thorin grabbed both of Bilbo’s arse cheeks in his hands and parted them, choosing to flick his tongue teasingly at Bilbo’s hole and wait for him to start begging for it.

It didn’t take long.

After only a few seconds of torment Bilbo released a needy whine and pushed himself backwards onto Thorin’s face, feeling the ridge of the politician's strong nose press against him. “Bloody tease.” He scolded, no real heat to his words.

Bilbo was talking to much and as far as Thorin was concerned, if the Hobbit was still able to form full sentences he wasn’t doing his job properly. Deciding to up the anti, he dug his nails into the plumpness of Bilbo’s arse, spread them further apart and jabbed his tongue into Bilbo as far as he could, the acute tightness of him only letting half of his tongue enter.

“Fucking hell!” Bilbo yelped, clawing at the pillow beneath him.

Thorin pulled his tongue out and teased at Bilbo's hole for a few moments, lapping his tongue around the dark muscle, and began to work him open properly. Stroke by stroke, his tongue inched further and further into him, alternating between quick jabs and long teasing stripes until Bilbo was a broken quivering mess under him, achingly hard and thrusting into the mattress below. 

That right here, that was what sex for Thorin was all about.

Learning exactly which sounds Bilbo made that meant ‘ _go faster_ ’ or ‘ _harder_!’; what blissful noises Bilbo would make that would only increase Thorin's own need for release. He could happily have explored Bilbo’s body for hours, learning each and every button to press and how to apply the perfect pressure.

But Bilbo had slowly started transforming into a desperate, sobbing mess under him; and Thorin was allot of things, but he wasn’t _cruel_. 

“What do you want, Bilbo?” He moaned brokenly between long laps at Bilbo’s rear.

“It’s so much Thorin, too much. Oh God.” Bilbo rotated his hips back so Thorin could get a better angle. “ _Please_ , Thorin. I need to come."

“Whatever you want, Bilbo.” His fingers tightened around Bilbo’s cheeks and he started fucking his tongue into Bilbo with earnest, his own cock throbbing as he heard Bilbo release a short yell and stuff his fist in his mouth to stop the sound from getting too loud and alert the rest of the household of  _exactly_  what they were up to.

“Oh, f-fuck!” Bilbo stuttered just as Thorin returned to experimenting with speeds; alternating between strong, fast pokes and long lingering circles at his entrance, each move shooting sparks within him and fanning the heat that was building at the pit of his stomach.

Forgoing technique, Thorin opted for a more brutish attack to Bilbo’s orgasm. Slowly, he slipped one hand down Bilbo’s arse to meet his tongue, and teased his thumb around the Hobbit's loosened entrance. “May I?"

“Do whatever you want, just please get on with it!"

“As you wish.” He slyly responded as he dipped his thumb into his mouth, then slowly used it to pull at Bilbo’s entrance, spreading it wider for his tongue to delve deeper inwards, Thorin's breathing turning ragged as he felt Bilbo thrust backwards onto his face. “Oh God you have no idea how hot you are right now."

"Don’t care. Need to come. _Now_." He hissed between clenched teeth.

“Working on it.” And that was the only warning he gave as he started messily kissing Bilbo's hole with a hint of teeth, his tongue pushing relentlessly into him as he did so.

“Oh God, ohGodohGod.” Bilbo scrunched his eyes closed and started riding Thorin’s face in earnest, his hips pumping backwards. “Right there, fuck, don’t you dare move oh Gooooood."

Bilbo’s needy whining pushed Thorin on, his whole face now pressed against the shorter man’s arse. He maintained the speed of his tongue jabs, felt Bilbo’s thigh start to quiver uncontrollably against his shoulder, and let out a gravely groan. “Come on, Bilbo.” He urged on, voice muffled. “I want to feel you come around my tongue."

“Oh shiiii-." 

The only warning Thorin had of Bilbo’s unravelling was the clenching of the impossible tightness around his tongue, and the startled cry the man released before he slumped forward, boneless and sated; aftershocks pulsing around him as he lapped Bilbo through his completion. 

Bilbo tried to form words, or some sort of appreciative murmur, but was rent so useless by Thorin’s ministrations that all he could do was lie there uselessly as he heard Thorin wander into the bathroom, turn on a tap, gargle something, and return to him with a cool wet washer. “Roll over, let me deal with that mess."

“Gimme a moment.” Bilbo groaned groggily, refusing to move from his ridiculously comfortable position on his front, messy stomach be damned.

He pawed at Bilbo’s side. “It’ll get uncomfortable, come on."

“So demanding.” Bilbo sighed melodramatically as he rolled onto his back, wincing as he felt the warm mess wet his shoulder. “Actually perhaps tend to the bed first."

“Who’s demanding now, hmm?” He teased, leaning down to plant a languid kiss on Bilbo’s lips, smiling against them as he heard Bilbo let out a pleased hum. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Thorin tended to the messy bed, then his messy Hobbit, and after a few minutes of lazy kissing decided it was time to messily tend to himself. He moved his knees so they were once again at Bilbo’s sides, not breaking the kiss for one second, and reached down and started working at his painfully hard prick. 

Still basking in the afterglow, Bilbo blinked slowly and looked down at Thorin’s pumping hand, a confused expression making its way across his face. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing?"

His hand paused what it was doing. “Uhh…"

“Jesus Christ, can you please stop dealing with yourself after you make me come first!” Bilbo chided, pushing against his chest frustratedly. “Roll onto your back, you big idiot."

“But you’re-"

“-Ready to return the favour, and enjoy every second of it. Roll over."

“I don’t want to interru-"

“-Oh Jesus fuck!” He exclaimed as he rolled his eyes, then used both hands to shove Thorin unceremoniously onto his back, shoulder wound be damned, grinning down at him triumphantly as he did so. “Now shut up and let me do the work."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re the boss."

A filthy grin made its way onto his face. “Why yes. Yes I am.” He lowered himself down so his face was against Thorin’s left hipbone, then started wetly making out with it, using no small amount of teeth and tongue. As far as Bilbo was concerned, if Thorin thought he could get Bilbo off and not expect anything in return, he was going to get all the rough treatment he deserved for being a selfless prick.

The first bite to Thorin’s hipbone came as a complete surprise to the politician. “ _Shit_ , do that again."

Another bite made its way down his hips, towards the fleshy part of his thigh. “Harder?"

“God, yes.” 

Bilbo moved far lower this time, planting a sloppy kiss and rough bite to the crease where Thorin’s thigh met his groin, marveling how destroyed Thorin sounded when he applied an extra dose of teeth as he went in for another bite. “How close are you?” He murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his thigh, lapping a the reddened skin.

“Close.” He bit his bottom lip as Bilbo shifted his head over and started biting across his hips, towards his aching cock.

“Good, because I’m ready to get to the part where we cuddle and drift off together naked, sooner rather than later.” Bilbo said as he scraped his nails down Thorin’s thighs and landed a long, wet lap of his tongue to the politician’s prick, smirking as he heard him stifle a shocked moan with the back of his hand. 

Utterly enjoying how easily Thorin was falling apart, he switched from teasing to determined, wrapping one hand around the base of Thorin’s length, and began pumping him vigorously as his lips worked at the tip of him. 

“Oh God, so so close. Oh _Fuck._ "

Hearing Thorin curse was such a rare occurrence and a massive turn-on that Bilbo doubled his speed, spit starting to trickle down the sides of his mouth as he bobbed his head up and down frantically, desperate to get his partner off.

“Jesus, oh ohhhh-"

Bilbo clawed his fingers into Thorin’s thighs as he felt the sharp pulses of Thorin’s releasing cock against the press of his tongue, swallowing as much of the salty liquid as he could, some of the pearlescent fluid dripping down the sides of his chin.

“Christ, that’s a pretty sight.” Thorin groggily muttered as he cupped Bilbo’s jaw with one massive hand, wiping away a trail of liquid from one side of his face with his thumb. “Remind me again how I managed to deserve sharing your bed?"

He carefully let Thorin’s spent cock fall out from between his flushed lips and smirked up at him. “Well it does help that you’re ridiculously attractive."

“Irrelevant.” Thorin slurred as he pawed at Bilbo’s shoulders, sluggishly attempting to pull him up the bed and into his arms.

Happily succumbing to Thorin’s grabby hands, Bilbo slipped up the mattress and into Thorin’s awaiting grasp, smushing his face into the politician’s shoulder. “Mmmm. Better."

Thorin’s chest rumbled happily, which Bilbo felt rather than heard. “I never want to leave this bed."

“Me either, I could happily stay here forever.” 

“Seconded.” He groaned, pulling Bilbo in closer.

“…Thorin?"

“Mmm?”

“Next time _you’re_ the one coming first, and I’m going to make it so good for you that you don’t leave the bed for a whole day."

His hands slipped down so they cupped the bare, smooth skin of Bilbo’s arse that he was finding himself increasingly addicted to. “I have no objections, I could even go again now."

Bilbo spluttered. “What? No! How?"

Thorin nuzzled into Bilbo’s neck with the ridge of his nose. “Only teasing, God knows I’m not sixteen anymore. It’ll be _at least_ two hours till I can go again."

“Two hours, eh?” Bilbo lapped at the shell of Thorin’s ear, then softly bit at his earlobe. “You can’t be any faster?"

His fingers dug deeper into the flushed skin of Bilbo’s arse. “Bilbo…” He warned, voice a breathy groan.

“Two hours. In that time I can find the lube, we can find a quiet spot somewhere, and I can finally ride that cock of yours like I have been wanting to for the past few weeks."

Thorin’s exhausted cock twitched interestedly at that, and he had to bite his tongue at the filthy response his mind came up with first. “ _Fuck_."

The look Bilbo directed down at him was positively predatory. “Oh yes, my dear. That’s _exactly_ what I have in mind."

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mardi Gras everyone!!  
> I actually marched/paraded for the first time and was part of a float, so that was heaps of fun!  
> Still finding glitter in my hair and fingernails. Amazing.
> 
> I thought some Gay filth the day after was the perfect way to wind down. Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Un Beta'ed this chapter. Apologies if there are any errors, I'll try find them all!
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	21. Ginger Cupcake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin wakes up from his nap,  
> The company goes to their next stop,  
> and Mead and texting does not a good mix make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content/trigger warning: Mention of past homophobia and homophobic slurs.

Thorin rolled onto his side and nuzzled into the soft skin of Bilbo's thigh, happily waking up to the shorter man propped up and reading in bed. "Time?" He asked groggily, eyes remaining closed.

He let out an amused snort and turned the page of his novel. "Nearly seven, dinner will be ready soon."

His eyes shot open. " _Shit_."

Bilbo chuckled, patting Thorin's head gently. "You looked like you needed the sleep far more than you needed a good shag. You need to stop forgetting you're _wounded_ , dear."

"No. Damn. We were going to- and it was going to be so bloody-"

"-relax, Thorin." He tutted fondly, running his fingers through Thorin's dark hair. "We have plenty of time, there's no need to rush."

He sighed. "I know, but-"

"-no butts." He released an amused huff. "Exactly. No butts. For a little while, that is. I'm sure we'll find the right time soon enough."

"And you can finally climb me like a tree." Thorin grinned, remembering the lewd text Bilbo had sent him drunk, all those days ago in Hobbiton.

Bilbo peered down at him curiously, raising an eyebrow. "And since when have you used that beautiful turn of phrase?"

His grin widened. "Picked it up from you, actually. Still don't remember sending me that text?"

He frowned. "Text?"

Thorin pulled himself up so he could sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Bilbo, cupped his chin, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "Mmhmm. That night you and Ori got spectacularly drunk and you wouldn't let me walk you home."

"What on earth are you talking about?" He pulled back, scanned Thorin's face for any hint of teasing, found none, and groaned defeatedly. "Fuck, what did I say?"

He kissed Bilbo again. "Nothing _too_ scandalous, just that you had wished I walked you home so you could have, oh yes, _climbed me like a tree_." 

"Oh my God." Bilbo leant forward and pressed his face against his bent knees, hiding the bright blush that had just bloomed in his cheeks. "I can't believe you still keep me around after that."

"I've kept it, I thought it was sweet."

Bilbo turned his head and shot him an incredulous look. " _Sweet?_ "

He shrugged. "Amusing, then."

The Hobbit hid his face against his knees once more. "I hate Drunk Bilbo so much, I can't believe he deleted the bloody message after he sent it."

Thorin reached forward and started running his fingers up and down Bilbo's spine. " _Drunk Bilbo_? You speak of your drunk self in third person?"

"Yes, and he's an absolute prat." He groaned, tension in his voice melting away as Thorin's ministrations continued. "Sometimes he's polite enough to leave a glass of water by the bed for when I wake up, but usually he's an utter arse, who dances on tables and, apparently, rudely texts gorgeous men."

"You've danced on a table?"

He hummed in affirmation. "My cousin's wedding. There was homebrew. The hangover was a _nightmare_."

"I wish I could have seen that." He shuffled over and lifted a leg so he could manoeuvre himself so he ended up sitting directly behind Bilbo, and pulled him back against his chest. "What else has this troublemaker gotten up to?"

Bilbo shimmied back into Thorin's warmth and smiled softly as muscular forearms encircled him, then leant back so his head was resting against Thorin's shoulder. "Oh you know, the usual. Dancing too long in the wrong shoes and getting awful blisters, kissing strange men in bars, swearing far too much. Nothing too extraordinary."

The arms around him tightened. "Kissing strange men, hmm?" Thorin spoke huskily in his ear, as he nosed the soft skin of his throat. "Anyone I should be jealous of?"

He huffed amusedly. "Definitely not, just your usual drunken snog, nothing more." Bilbo cleared his throat pointedly. "This is, ah, the longest relationship I've had in years, actually."

"I'll consider myself twice as lucky, then." He kissed Bilbo's throat softly. "And the same goes for me. To be honest, I've been too busy to date anyone seriously with the candidacy and everything else that's been going on."

"Yeah, speaking of which... When all of this is said and done, are you going to go back to all of your  _politics_ and such?"

Thorin chuckled under his breath. "Of course I'll go back to my _politics and such._ When Smaug is out of the picture and Erebor is in the right hands, I'll return to London and continue my campaign."

His face fell. "Oh."

"What? What was that _oh_?" He turned Bilbo sidewards in his hold, so he could meet his gaze. "Don't think for one second that I'll leave you behind when I return to London, we'll sort out some way for us to keep seeing each other, whatever works best for you."

"Yes, but we can't exactly be _together_ with you as PM, can we?"

He frowned. "It's not the fifties, Bilbo. I'm sure the UK can handle a gay Prime Minister with a partner. Or... more than a partner."

Bilbo batted the reply away. " _Really_ though? Have you talked this through with Balin?"

His frown deepened. "We've talked about it in passing, but haven't worked out a plan as yet, no. I haven't needed to until recently." Thorin cupped the side of Bilbo's face, voice lowering to a gentle murmur. "Look, as long as you want me to stick around, I'll stick around. We can work out all the details later, once this is over. No point in making any plans now when we don't really know how this is going to pan out."

"You're right." Bilbo groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. "When you were sleeping I just had a little freak out, is all. I keep forgetting that you're possibly the next bloody PM." His hands fell and he stared wide-eyed at Thorin. "Christ, I knocked out the future PM! Fuck! You ate out my-"

"- I'll stop you right there." He interrupted, placing a finger on Bilbo's lips. "None of that, let's go back to where you keep calling me a big idiot."

He raised an eyebrow accusingly. "I don't call you that _all_ the time."

"No, just most of the time." He smiled and kissed Bilbo softly, pulling him against his chest. "We'll sort it out later, yes? All we need to worry about right now is looking after each other and getting to Erebor."

"Fine, you're right. As usual."

"I am, aren't I." He tucked away a stray curl behind Bilbo's ear. "Now how about we get cosy and kiss each other stupid for a while until someone interrupts us for dinner?"

"Sounds perfect."

 

\---

 

Bilbo crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, sending a furious glare Gandalf's way, down the long wooden dining table. He did _not_ leave the warmth of Thorin's arms and lips for this sort of bullshit.

Ignoring the Hobbit's glare, as he usually did, Gandalf continued his tirade. "Gwahir and a few of her companions have selflessly offered their service, and will take us to Beorn's tomorrow as soon as it gets dark. I expect you all to be packed and ready, they are risking a lot for us, traveling in such a great number when they did so only yesterday. The police will be on high alert, so we need to be careful."

"That's great and all, but go back to the part where you were talking about us staying with some _Bee Hermit_ for a night? The man sounds utterly terrifying, you said he would either help us or try to kill us!" Bilbo waved his hands dramatically, nearly knocking over his wine glass.

Gandalf only shook his head and chuckled amusedly in response. "I highly doubt Beorn will use violence if he decides to turn us away, but we should be aware of what we might face tomorrow."

"Still not helping!" He looked around the large table to see if anyone else shared his outrage, but all of his friends, including Bofur and Ori, were nodding in agreement and utterly unphased by the chance of being shot at again. 

"Tell me, Gandalf, why do you think this man might meet us with hostility?" Thorin asked neutrally, placing a hand on Bilbo's knee; the shorter man sighing defeatedly as he shot him a thankful smile.

"Well, I, er... Did an article about him last time we met. I might have brought him a little... unwanted attention." Gandalf replied airily, gesturing noncommittedly.

Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Unwanted attention?"

"It was a piece on the sustainability of his cabin and surrounding property, I _may_ have mentioned his Organic honey beauty product range online and it  _may_ have sold out the next day. I received quite a heated text from him telling me exactly where I could _insert_ said article."

Bilbo spluttered. "The Bee Hermit makes face masks and moisturiser?!"

"Yes, and I won't have you calling him such horrid names. It's _Beorn,_ dear _._ " Gandalf chided, raising a bushy eyebrow challengingly.

"Yes, fine. Sorry." 

"Good." Gandalf clapped his hands together, cheerfully scanning the faces before him. "Now, I suggest we all stay up quite late so we can sleep through most of the day tomorrow. Who's for a game of Poker?"

The whole table erupted into groans, and Bilbo slumped in his chair. "This is going to be a long night."

"Oh Ye of little faith." He tutted, standing up slowly. "Of course it's a drinking game, calm down."

Bilbo cupped his face in his hands, remembering the hangover from his last drinking marathon with that group. " _Shit_."

 

\---

 

A bottle of wine and three tequila shots later, Thorin was blessed with the spectacular sight of Drunk Bilbo dancing to the Sugababes at three am on the dining room table, utilising some rather spectacular dance moves that demanded repetition somewhere private and with far less clothing.

And he would never forget it.

 

\---

 

Bilbo's fingers dug into Evie's sides, making her reach back and slap his hands away. "Hey! Use the handles beside your arse to hold on, stop punishing me for your hangover." She yelled over the loud wind rushing in their ears as they barrelled down a gravel road, bringing up the rear.

"Sorry, shit." Bilbo hollered back, groaned and leant back, patting the bike below his arse until he found something to hold onto.

"You alright back there? You did vomit twice at throwing practice today."

"Shhh. Busy dying. Please don't turn so hard next time or I'll vomit all down your back."

"Christ." Evie shook her head and took the next turn at half the speed, leaning the Harley only as far as she had to. "Better?"

"Mmhmm. Focusing on not vomiting, please don't make me talk."

She laughed brightly, shaking her head. "Don't worry, we'll be there in only a few minutes, then you can have a lie down."

"Thank fuck." He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore his churning stomach.

"Hey Bilbo, are you seeing this?"

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes slowly and took in a sharp breath.

The vista spread out before him was positively idyllic, illuminated only by the bright light of the moon and a warm orange light seeping out from between the trees. The edge of a woodland approached, and within said woodland the towering mossy roof of a log cabin could be seen, its chimney releasing a solitary streak of white smoke.

Bilbo sat up straight, trying to get a better look at the scene before him. "Is that where we're going?"

"Yeah, we're going to drop you around the back, Gandalf's orders."

"Right." 

Evie halved their speed as the Harley entered the forest, following the red tail light of Dwalin and his rider before them.  The road twisted to the left, passed a giant Oak, and the convoy turned off onto a small dirt track, heading towards the soft warm ligh radiating from the cabin.

The group continued in silence as The Eagles all turned off their headlights and avoided revving their engines, rounded a tight corner, and halted as a towering wooden fence came into view.

Gandalf dismounted his Harley, a steely grey sports model, and patted the back of his rider before they nodded and rode off. He clapped his hands together and sauntered over to the awaiting group, smiling brightly. "Well? Come on come on, time to meet our new host. Hurry up, we can't keep The Eagles too long. Say your goodbyes."

The group burst into action as they shook themselves out of their stupor and dismounted their rides carefully, then quietly gave their thanks and nodded in appreciation.

Once Bilbo had pulled his possessions out of the leather saddle bag at Evie's left and put his helmet in its place, he strode forward and awkwardly kissed her cheek, ignoring her amused chuckle as he banged his cheekbone against the  edge of her open face helmet. "Look after yourself, yeah?"

She punched him playfully in the arm. "Only if you don't cut yourself on those pretty knives I've given you."

"Deal." Thorin cleared his throat loudly behind him, reminding him of the task at hand. "Alright then. Please know that you, Jamie and Gwahir will always be welcome for tea at my cottage in Hobbiton, do swing by if you're ever in the area. It's the one at the top of the hill, with the flowery roof." 

Evie smiled softly and nodded. "I'll remember." She turned the key in the ignition, bringing her Harley to life. "We'll stay over and leave questionable stains in _your_ bed, how's that sound?"

He spluttered, blushing bright red. "We didn't leave any bloody stains!"

"Sure you didn't." She laughed brightly, sliding her vintage riding goggles on. "I mean what I said though, look after yourself. Don't be a hero, if something happens, get to safety."

He opened his mouth as if he was about to retort with something sarcastic, but caught the serious glint in her eye and the fight in him melted. "I will."

"Good luck, Bilbo." Evie kicked the side stand up and rode off, her tail lights disappearing from view as she leant around a corner behind a towering Oak.

He spun around and smiled softly at Thorin, who was talking quietly to Balin and Dwalin, then whistled appreciatedly as he put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the colossal wooden fence before him. It was made from uneven planks, as if its builder had stripped the forest around them and used whatever was at hand; and stood ten foot high and at least five times as wide, the true size of the structure unknown as it disappeared into the forest at either side of the Hobbit.

Bilbo peered curiously at the fence, squinted at something he couldn't quite make out, and froze as he realised what he was staring at... the flashing red light of a security camera. He squared his shoulders and stormed over to Gandalf, who had joined Thorin, Balin and Dwalin's conversation; the four talking in hushed voices and nodding to each other.

"Gandalf, could you kindly tell me why the Bee Hermit has a fucking security camera focused on us?"

He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and chuckled, ignoring Dwalin's predatory growl. "It's Beorn, dear. He's very protective of his privacy, which is why I had us dropped here in particular. He knows we're alone, have no way of escaping, and no visible weapons. He'll come greet us when he's ready."

"Protective of his _privacy_?! Gandalf, just how protective?" Bilbo spluttered.

Gandalf batted the question away, rolling his eyes. "The man is ex-military, he's rather... _Invested_ in keeping his presence here unknown." He cleared his throat. "Which reminds me..." Gandalf sauntered out of their small circle and rounded up the rest of the group, bringing them over to the rather unimpressed four who were watching him in frustration.

Once they had all been brought together, Gandalf cleared his throat again and smiled at each of them in turn. "What I have to say next, please know it's from a place of respect and a desire to keep us all in one piece."

Dwalin snorted. "Just get on with it."

"Of course." He nodded graciously at Dwalin, and continued. "Beorn is a lovely man, but do keep in mind he's been isolated for quite a few years. He doesn't really have a... well, _filter_ when it comes to social interactions, he can be quite gruff or blunt, please don't take it personally. Also, don't mention anything about him being ex-military, don't ask where he goes late at night, and well... just let me do the talking."

The company each released their own version of 'how fucking fantastic' under their breaths, Bilbo instead choosing to groan and cover his face.

"What _is_ a safe conversation topic, then?" Balin asked genially, elbowing his brother as Dwalin grumbled a threat under his breath. 

"He has a love for all animals and nature, it would be a good idea to start there. Beorn may seem imposing and intimidating, but he has a gentle heart."

"Gandalf, I hardly think-" Bilbo started, then cut off as he caught the sight of a mountain of a man approach them. He had wild dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, a thick long beard, was near seven feet tall, and had the thickest muscular forearms Bilbo had ever seen. 

Picking up on his companions stunned silence, Gandalf turned and greeted the terrifying man with open arms, then kissed him on the cheek. "Beorn, dear, lovely to see you again."

Beorn stood stock still as Gandalf grinned up at him, his dark bushy eyebrows raising as he took in all the new faces before him. "And who are these stray dogs you have brought to my doorstep, hmm?" He asked dryly, thick Swedish accent rolling off his tongue.

Gandalf laughed brightly, subtly moving between the group and Beorn in case any of his companions shot Beorn a rude glare. "Just some friends of mine, we are travelling north and wondering if we could perhaps stay one night? The floor is fine, we don't be a bother I assure you."

He crossed his arms, pushing his tattered red and black flannel shirt further up his forearms. "And when have you ever _not_ been a bother, my old friend?"

"I fear in this case, you know me too well." He clapped Beorn on the shoulder, and some of the well-hidden worry in him melted as he saw the corner of Beorn's mouth twitch up in the beginning of an amused smile. "But we will not intrude too long, one night is all we need, then we'll be on our way."

"And where are you headed?"

His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps that is a tale better suited to be shared in front of a fire, over some of your divine honey mead?"

Beorn rolled his eyes. "Using my love of stories against me, you utter bastard." He gestured for Gandalf to follow him, and started to walk towards the left side of the fence. "The gate is a short walk, come on all of you. Before Gandalf finds another way to charm something out of me."

"You're too kind, Mister Beorn." Balin called out, as politely as he could muster.

Beorn froze, then released a booming laugh and bent forward to slap his knee. " _Mister Beorn!"_ He turned, a very toothy and slightly terrifying grin targeted down at the shorter man. "You have amusing manners, you can sit next to me for supper tonight." His gaze scanned the small crowd, and paused when it reached the Hobbit.

"Ah, hello." Bilbo nodded, trying to resist the urge to run in the opposite direction under Beorn's intense stare.

"Hello little bunny, how'd you get mixed up with this unwashed lot?" Beorn near-cooed, and even bent down to talk to him.

Slightly irritated by the coddling, but thankful he wasn't being shot at, Bilbo swallowed his pride and smiled up at him. "Long story."

"I expect to hear all of it tonight, come on." He stood back up to his full height, and returned to his place at the front of the group. "Try not to fall into any holes, bunny. I wouldn't want to lose you so soon after meeting you."

 

\---

 

Bilbo leant back into the oversized navy sofa, pushing his glass of mead away on the small birch table before him. “Christ, how the hell do they do this twice in a row?” He groaned, rubbing the sides of his temples.

“Not in a drinking mood tonight eh, lad?” Bofur asked, heavily landing in the sofa beside him.

The Hobbit scowled down at the glass before him as if it had insulted him. “Still feeling last night, to be honest."

Bofur laughed brightly, slapping him companionably on the back. “You just have to mosey on through the hangover, hair of the dog always works wonders for me.” He winked, leaning back into the cushions.

He harrumphed dryly. “Is everything always so easy for you?"

“Easy?” He raised a busy eyebrow questioningly.

Bilbo gestured vaguely. “You know, everything always seems so  _easy going_ with you, you’re probably one of the most contented people I’ve ever met, and I’m from _Hobbiton_. You see a dog? Your day is made. An extra serving of mash with your dinner? It’s a bloody  _jamboree_."

“Oh Bilbo, you’re too much.” He laughed brightly, rocking back in his seat. “Well I’ll answer your question with a question, how come you have to be so serious and dry all the time?"

He frowned. “I’m not serious."

Bofur snorted. “Oh indeed, and I’m the Queen Mother."

“Hilarious.” He scowled, crossing his arms huffily. 

“It’s true, me and the lads were talking earlier about how nice it was to see you all relaxed last night, making gooey eyes at our Thorin."

Bilbo slunk further down the couch. “Oh God please tell me we didn’t embarrass ourselves."

“On the contrary, it was a nice change seeing you and Thorin all comfortable and close with each other. We haven’t seen Thorin like that in, well... I can’t actually remember the last time I saw him so affectionate with someone."

He covered his face. “Oh God."

Bofur laughed good-naturedly and pulled Bilbo’s hands away. “Look, we’re all very relaxed here when it comes to showing affection, we’re all family. And now that you and Thorin are together, you can consider yourself family too.” A wide grin blossomed on his face. “If it makes you feel any better, Ori and Dwalin were moanin’ and groaning’ all last night and kept half of the place up, Gwahir included, so don’t feel bad. Ori has it worse."

“And Dwalin and I have apologised a thousand times, so stop bringing it up!” Ori interrupted, his ears pricking up when he caught wind of his name. “Shove over, make some room.” He fussed, flapping his hands so Bofur would wiggle across and he could sit on the other side of Bilbo.

“Alright _Ginger Cupcake_ , I’m moving."

“Hey! That is private information!” Ori yelped, punching Bofur in the shoulder. 

“ _Ginger Cupcake?_ ” Bilbo asked incredulously, shit eating grin on his face.

Ori shot him a murderous look as he sat down. “Yes. Ginger Cupcake. So Dwalin might have a pet name for me when we’re alone, so what?"

He covered his mouth and giggled. “Of all of the names under the sun, he went with _that_?"

“Please stop, I haven’t heard the end of it from Nori and Dori all day."

“Aright, I’m backing off.” Bilbo raised his hands in mock surrender. “…Ginger Cupcake."

“Bilbo!”

“That was the last one, I promise!” He laughed brightly, cupping his belly as he rolled backwards into the sofa.

“Fine.” Ori grumbled, crossing his legs huffily.

Bilbo wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye and beamed over at Bofur. “So, how come I missed the little concert last night?"

“Because you were utterly pissed and passed out, that’s why.” Ori replied cheekily, some of the tension melting from his shoulders. “After you did that little dance for us on the table, you climbed down and fell asleep in Thorin’s lap and he carried you upstairs. Then… Dwalin and I went to bed and forgot how thin the walls were. In my defence, we had had quite a lot to drink."

“Wait. Rewind that. I _danced?_ "

“Aye, to the Sugababes. It was beautiful.” Bofur teased, mock-wiping away a tear and theatrically sniffing. 

“Hilarious.” Bilbo replied, completely deadpanned.

“Is there any chance at all you could teach me that little hip movement you did, the one that looks like you’re dry humping someone against a wall?"

Bilbo groaned and covered his face once more. “I didn’t."

“Oh, _you did._ ” Ori replied cheerfully, his embarrassment completely gone.

“Christ."

“So, when am I going to get my lesson then?” Bofur winked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well I’m definitely not doing that sober."

Bofur leaned forward, grabbed Bilbo’s drink, and pushed it into the Hobbit’s hand. “I’m sure something can be arranged."

 

\---

 

“...So I come downstairs, completely starkers, because… you know… it’s my house and I was alone.” Bilbo cleared his throat. “ _Anyways_. So I walk into the living room and who’s sneaking about but my fucking awful cousin Lobelia, a bag in one hand and my best silver teapot in the other, trying to make away with my father’s heirlooms! I was so surprised I completely forgot I was naked and didn’t even cover myself until she looked over, screamed loudly, and _then_ I remembered. Quite quickly."

The whole company, including Beorn, sat around the living room on dining chairs and couches, some electing to sit on the floor, and all burst into raucous laughter. 

“Yes, I know. Rather awkward.” Bilbo nodded, trying to talk over the loud group and continue on with his tale. “So I went to cover myself, and thought _‘no, if I do she'll stay longer_ ’, so just stood there with my hands on my hips looking really angry. I hardly think I was overly intimidating, but it did make her forget the teapot in her hand."

He sat up straighter on the couch and crossed his legs. “So, of course I ask her why she’s broken into my house, and the horrid woman says that she didn’t think I was home and was at university instead, and _somehow_ had it in her head that it was _me_ bursting rudely in on her! And then she goes on to say that she has every right to be there, and that since my parents hadn’t included her in their will that she had _decided to take things into her own hands and ‘borrow’ the silverware._ "

Ori’s eyes narrowed to slits. “That bitch."

Bilbo laughed dryly. “My dear Ori, _just wait_.” He leant forward and took a large gulp of wine, preparing himself for what he was about to say next. “Next, I politely ask her to leave and act like the gracious host that I am, but she refuses, saying that she wasn’t done yet and that, and I quote: _‘a cottage this large shouldn’t go to someone who can’t ever fill it with children'_."

His audience let out a mix of offended gasps and angered snarls.

“Yeah. She went there.” He put his glass back on the table and looked around the room, amused at how taken with the story everyone was. “And then she goes on and on about how I had ‘ _chosen_ to live a life of solitude’, ‘could never fill the bedrooms with laughter’ and, _my favourite_ , that I had ‘decided to be the reclusive fag of bag end’."

Dwalin slammed his fist down on the coffee table, livid. “Give me her address. _Now_."

Bilbo jumped at the loud noise. “Oh she’s an awful woman but she’s always been like that, that’s how most Hobbits are. I elect to ignore it, I make do."

The Head of Security growled. “That’s no excuse for blind prejudice and hate."

“Love, it’s alright. Calm down.” Ori softly spoke, placing his hand gently over the one Dwalin had hit the table with. 

The fire in him subsided and he nodded. “Sorry love."

“It’s fine.” He squeezed Dwalin’s hand and turned back to Bilbo and smiled encouragingly at him. “So, what did she do next?"

He snorted. “Well. So she goes on with that awful topic for a while, more a monologue than a conversation, so I start desperately thinking about what was the worst thing I could do to make her leave, but not be charged with scarring her permanently. And then it hits me.” Bilbo chuckled, grinning mischievously at his listeners. “So my hands are on my hips, yeah? And I just slowly start widening my legs and straightening my back so I end up in the Wonder Woman power pose, unapologetically naked."

“As it should be!” Bofur yelled, making the rest of the room break out into cheers.

“Yes yes. So finally she notices the change in my stance and squints, asks what’s going, and I say  _‘Lobelia, if you don’t walk out of my house this instant I’ll do something we’re both going to regret and you’ll never make eye contact with me at Christmas lunch ever again’_."

The room feel silent, each of the listeners leaning forward in anticipation.

“The God-awful woman just looks me up and down with this sour look on her face and laughs bitterly, then continues her monologue at twice the volume, and that was it. I snapped.” Bilbo’s grin turned wolfish. “So I look her dead in the eye, raise my chin defiantly, and start to shake my hips so my dick loudly slaps from side to side and flaps about. Needless to say, she _bolted_."

The group exploded into a mix of rowdy cheers and wolf whistles.

_“You didn’t!"_

_“Fuck off!"_

_“You’re taking the piss!"_

_“Liar!"_

“I swear to you, I did!” Bilbo laughed brightly, nodding vigorously. “I did warn her multiple times. Christ, I’ve never seen her run so fast in all my life, which of course she did screaming loudly all the way out to the garden.” His laughing faded and he took a long sip of wine. “So, after taking far too long to answer your question, _no Balin_. Not everyone in Hobbiton is all smiles and sunshine."

He let out a sudden choking sound as two pairs of arms were thrown around his neck, a mix of brown and blonde hair obscuring his view.

“You’re my hero!” Kili groggily wailed, wrapping his arms tighter around the surprised Hobbit.

“We’ll never let anyone treat you that way again, Bilbo!” Fill added, nodding so roughly it messed up the side of Bilbo’s hair.

“That’s very nice of both of you to say, but I’d like to be able to breathe, boys.” Bilbo spluttered, spitting out the brother’s hair from his mouth.

“Sorry!” They both cried in unison, and the arms disappeared only to be replaced by two eager Durins squishing themselves onto the small sofa at either side of him.

Completely taken of guard, Bilbo sat there dumbly as Fili and Kili maneuvered themselves, Fili sliding in next to him and pulling an arm around his shoulder, Kili electing to sit sideways across them all and put his legs in both of their laps.

Looking down at his new and rather crowded situation, Bilbo let out an amused snort. “You two really know how to make yourselves comfortable."

Fili hummed in agreement and brought his knees up to his chest, then put his head on Bilbo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry your family is so rubbish."

He let out an amused chuckle. “It’s fine, Fili.” The lad then sighed loudly, and Bilbo scrunched his nose with distaste as a wave of mead hit him right in the nose. “Jesus, how much have you two had?"

Kili made a smug noise and wiggled down the sofa so he was completely lying down, and folded his arms behind his head. “A lot.”

He tutted fondly. “You can stay as long as there’s no vomiting."

“Yessir.” Kili mock-saluted, then reached down to the floor beside him, plucked his wine glass of the floor and took a long sip.

“Look at you two, you’re like giant cats.” Bilbo laughed softly under his breath. “Must be a family trait."

Fill burrowed into the nook of his neck. “It’s only cos we love you, you know."

His younger brother nodded solemnly in agreement. “Yeah we love you, Uncle Bilbo."

Bilbo’s stomach did a flip, but instead of saying something affectionate in response, he squinted down at Kili challengingly. “Wow, you two really are pissed, aren’t you."

Kili laughed, kicking his legs up and down as he did so. “No we do, I swear."

He felt Fili nod. “We really do, I p-promise."

“Alright, I believe you, you silly boys.” Bilbo said affectionately, ruffling Kili’s hair.

He wiggled even further down the couch and into Bilbo’s lap. “You’re the best."

Across the room, a rather grouchy and drunk Thorin eyed the three quietly, arms crossed and pout in place. Not missing anything, Balin looked between the two parties and chuckled under his breath. 

Balin reached forward and patted Thorin sympathetically on the knee. “A little put out that your nephews beat you to the punch, eh Thorin?"

He growled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about."

“Of course not.” Balin teased, shaking his head. “Like I haven’t seen you glaring holes into the sides of Fili and Kili’s skulls the past few minutes."

“It’s fine. Bilbo and I are… taking things slow."

Balin snorted. “Oh really now? So those aren’t lovey-dovey eyes I see you and Bilbo directing at each other when you think the other isn’t looking, hmm? _Tell him_ , Thorin."

“It’s not that simple."

He raised both bushy white eyebrows at him. “Oh really now? Pretty sure it’s as simple as you walking over there right now, leaning down and whispering in his ear exactly how you feel about him. _So complicated._ "

“Balin, I-"

“-He’ll nod, you’ll blush bright red, then he’ll reach up and whisper exactly the same thing back.” His grin turned mischievous. “And then of course you’ll rip him away from your nephews, corner him in a cupboard and the two of you will go at it like rabbits."

_“Balin!"_

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, I’ll keep to my own business.” Balin stood up slowly, groaning as he rubbed his back. “I need to refill my glass anyways, I’ll be off."

Thorin grumbled down at his hands as he heard Balin walk off, and pulled his phone out of his pocket mindlessly and swiped the app menu screens to and fro as he sifted through his thoughts. He _could_ just walk over there and tell Bilbo how he felt, sure… But what if he didn’t reciprocate and it happened in front of everyone in the room?

Thorin sighed, rubbing at his eyes as the mead gave him double vision when he brought the iPhone too close to his face. “Perhaps I can just… write it down. Yes. That can work. And I’ll tell him tomorrow. Perfect.” He mumbled under his breath as he opened the ‘Notes’ app in his phone and stared at the blank yellow notepad. “Right. Okay.” And began awkwardly typing with two thumbs as he swayed slightly in his chair.

**Tel biilbo u love him tomorroww, you bg idioot.**

“Right. Now to s-save this bugger.” He squinted down at his phone, his vision blurring momentarily. “Alright so to save it I’ll just press down here… create a folder called Bilbo… press this green thing I suppose and voila! Note saved for tomorrow.” Thorin grinned triumphantly down at his phone, then turned it off and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll deal with that later."

 

Across the room squished under a pile of drunk snoozing Durins, Bilbo slid his phone out of his pocket, and smiled.

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duuuuun!
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Lovely Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	22. Schemes and Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin have an important exchange,  
> Beorn's cabin is explored,  
> And Balin requests a quiet moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Awkwardly slides chapter towards you and hides*
> 
> I have a perfectly good reason to why this is so late, I swear.

Thorin rolled onto his back and let out a rough groan. "Jesus H. Christ." 

A soft chuckle sounded at his side and something warm snuggled in closer. "Good morning handsome." Bilbo whispered softly, his tone fond and teasing.

He wrapped his arm around Bilbo's back, pulled him in closer so he was half-splayed across his chest, and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Morning." 

Bilbo sighed contentedly and tucked his head under Thorin's chin. "How we feeling?"

"Like death warmed up." He winced as he heard the rasp in his voice. "And evidently sounding like it, too."

"So dramatic." Bilbo swatted Thorin's chest cheekily. "Here, let me go find you a Berocca... Or some water at least."

The arm around Bilbo tightened. "It's warm, let's just try to go back to sleep. Being conscious is the last thing I want to be right now.." He sighed melodramatically. "Let's go back to sleep, I'm clearly dying."

"Drama queen." Bilbo snorted and rolled his eyes, then wriggled out of Thorin's loose grasp with ease and knelt by his side, swatting away his grabby hands. "Now none of that, I'll be back in a minute." He leant down and pecked Thorin on the lips, smiled against his mouth as he heard Thorin release a pleased hum, and set off for the kitchen. 

"Christ, it's early." Thorin groaned as he picked his phone off the bedside table to check the time. "Why the hell are we up so early, it isn't even seven yet." He moaned and closed his eyes.

"Shh you." The soft sound of Bilbo's bare feet upon the wooden floorboards closed in, and Thorin peeled his eyes open to see him beaming down at him.

He raised an eyebrow slowly. "Yes?"

Bilbo's eyes darted down. "Nothing. Just... Here." He gently pressed the cold fizzing glass into Thorin's hand as he sat up against the headboard of the large white bed, and once it was safely passed over he slipped back between the sheets beside the half-awake politician.

The light bubbling noise of the dissolving Berocca was oddly soothing, and Thorin found himself momentarily forgetting his splitting headache as he stared at the Orangey gradient of the glass before him; his hangover making his mind feel groggy and disconnected from his surroundings. After a few moments the tablet fully dissolved, he took a hesitant sip, and then groaned with relief as the cold liquid poured down his dry throat. "You're a saint."

He batted the compliment away. "Oh stop it, you. It's just a tablet and some water, nothing worth writing home about."

Thorin frowned. "You've woken up to me whinging away and then found me a cure for this awful after-mead-breath, I'll fuss if I want to." He sculled the rest of the glass, carefully put it down on the bedside table to his right and turned on his side to face Bilbo, who was avoiding his eye. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course." Bilbo wriggled down so he was lying on his side, his body language mirroring Thorin's. "Just tired, we should get back to sleep. We have to stay nocturnal, remember."

"Sure." Thorin eyed him warily, but tucked away his concern to the back of his mind, planning to bring up Bilbo's odd behaviour later that day. "Goodnight."

"Night." 

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, desperate to escape from his god-awful hangover. After what felt like half an hour, he realised what was keeping him awake: his iPhone digging into his left shoulder blade. "Damned thing." Thorin awkwardly retrieved the phone from behind himself, paused, and swiped it so it was unlocked. Feeling a sudden wave of fondness for Bilbo, he opened his messages to find the infamous tree-climbing text and froze.

**Tel biilbo u love him tomorroww, you bg idioot.**

" _Fuck_."

The colour drained from his face, the bottom of his stomach dropped, and Thorin read the sent message again and again, staring at the 'read' message and tick just below the blue text bubble. Bilbo had read it. The cat was indeed out of the proverbial bag and he had done so whilst _drunk._ How romantic. His mother would have been _so_ proud.

That's why Bilbo had been so out of character, tiptoeing around him and being overly nice, surely he pitied Thorin and didn't return the sentiment? _Shit._

He locked his phone, put it on the bedside table and covered his face. Oh yes, he'd really done it now. Slow clap it out for Thorin Durin, Lord Of Cocking Up Relationships Before They Really Even Start.

Soft, smaller hands covered his and pulled them away from his face. "I'm assuming you just found the text, then?"

Thorin groaned and hesitantly met Bilbo's gaze. "Bilbo, I-"

"-I love you too." 

His stomach flipped. _Surely_ in his hung over daze he had misheard him. "W-what do you-"

Bilbo's mouth cracked into a wide smile and he cupped the side of Thorins face gently, thumb caressing his bearded cheek. "I said _I love you too,_ you big idiot." 

"What."

"How many times do you want to hear it, hmm?" Bilbo teased lightly, then leant down to place a soft kiss against his lips. "Again?"

Thorin nodded once, licking his bottom lip. "Please."

He flattened himself against Thorin's chest and pressed his lips against the taller man's ear. "I love you. Now go back to sleep."

"Only if you say it one more time." He whispered breathlessly, eyes wide, still in utter disbelief.

"I. Love. You." Bilbo spoke between peppered kisses to Thorin's face. "Now sleep."

"Yessir."

 

\---

 

It was done. 

The looming 'I Love You's' had been exchanged, and Bilbo felt... Well, to be honest, he felt incredible. Unable to sleep from sheer unadulterated joy, he sat up in bed and looked down at the slumbering pile of blankets by his side that was his love, and released a soft sigh. 

God, he loved Thorin. More than he had loved anyone, now that he thought of it. He sat up straighter in bed, putting his hands in his lap, and bit his bottom lip. Surely feeling this intensely about Thorin should scare him, but he felt... Calm. Safe. Cherished. 

And it was a wholly new experience; all those years with James he had always felt slightly antsy, desperate to be by his side, constantly checking he was being the best boyfriend he could be, giving James all of himself, whatever he wanted. Until nothing of himself was left.

But with Thorin it was just... Quiet. Comfortable. He didn't feel like he had to change any part of himself, or spend every waking moment by Thorin's side. Bilbo pulled his knees up and looked out the window, catching a glimpse of Beorn as he walked down the side of the house towards the rear, large axe on one shoulder and a pile of wood under his other arm. He appeared to be in his element, the most relaxed Bilbo had ever seen him; even last night and slightly inebriated he had still maintained a slight air of unrest. But alone and toiling away, whistling under his breath, he looked perfectly content.

Thoroughly absorbed in watching Beorn do his morning errands, Bilbo missed the first polite knock at the bedroom door, and was startled when the second, louder knock ran out.

"Bilbo? You up?" Balin whispered from the other side of the bedroom door.

"One second." Bilbo scrunched his nose with distaste when the chill air hit his lower half as he climbed out of the bed, and scurried to the end of the bed to wrap himself up in the charcoal grey knitted throw that he had spotted the night previous. Looking utterly ridiculous, he wriggled one arm out of his blanket cocoon and opened the door; where a polished and fully-dressed Balin was waiting for him with a bright smile on his face.

"Thorin's still sleeping off last night, I take it?" He teased cheekily, rolling back on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

Bilbo grinned. "I've never seen him that drunk, is he always so... affectionate after he's had a few pints?"

Balin chuckled, nodding animatedly. "Indeed laddie, a drunk Thorin is an affectionate Thorin. Usually Dwalin or I have to take the brunt of it and kindly push him away or roll our eyes and take it, so it's nice to see his advances reciprocated by someone who feels the same way."

"Ah. So Thorin told you about that then?" 

"Aye, he did. Congratulations are in order." He smiled warmly down at Bilbo, then peered behind him to check the slumbering lump of blankets that was his boss and old friend. "But enough of the group gossip, I was wondering if we could have a quick chat. Privately."

Bilbo frowned. "Is everything alright?"

Balin clapped him on the shoulder, laughing softly under his breath as he steered Bilbo out of the bedroom and into the hallway, closing the door behind them. "Of course, not to worry. Just need to ask a small favour, nothing to stress over."

The Campaign Manager's voice was light and playful, but something in Balin's eyes said otherwise. Bilbo unconsciously clenched his hand that was hidden in his wad of blankets. Something was definitely amiss. "Right. Perhaps out the front? I think I saw a small wooden bench near the front door."

"Yes that sounds lovely, good idea. Nice and quiet out there." He turned them and headed towards the large front door, and when they passed the archway to the living room, Bilbo froze when he saw what scene had unfolded inside.

"Oh my God."

Bilbo and Thorin had gone to bed first, since Thorin wasn't doing so well and Beorn had offered his spare room to the couple, winking at Bilbo cheekily as they said their farewells and went off to bed together. Apparently, they had missed quite the night.

Ori and Dwalin had coupled off and taken the largest sofa at the other side of the lounge, furthest away from Bombur's raucous snoring. Dwalin was laying on his back with Ori fully splayed over his chest, stupid smile on his face, a hand curled possessively around the smaller man on his chest.

At Bilbo's side of the room, Bombur was lying on his back, mouth wide open, with Bifur and Bofur both using a soft thigh each as a pillow. Bifur lay perfectly straight with his hands folded on his chest, whereas Bofur had curled himself around his brother's thigh and was spooning it happily, making sleepy contented murmurs now and again whilst twitching his long moustache.

In a messy heap at the centre of the room rested Kili, a leg thrown over Bofur's ankle in the middle of the night, hair askew and covering half of his face, limbs comically stretched out with one arm thrown over his eyes. His other leg, true to form, was poking his brother in the back. Trying to escape his octopus-limbed brother, Fili had tried to roll out of the way in his sleep but hadn't quite made it far enough; his path blocked by the sofa Dori was happily snoozing on, safely out of harms way.

Nori was nowhere to be seen, true to his nature, and was probably off making trouble somewhere, Bilbo mused to himself as his eyes continued to scan the cuddle-pile before him.

The two remaining in the room were Oin and Gloin, who were slumped against the side of Dori's couch, feet outstretched and legs tucked under a knitted eggshell blue blanket. Gloin had his head resting on his brothers shoulder, mug of half-drunk mead by his side, the two looking like they had fallen asleep mid-conversation. 

One of Kili's arms was splayed over Oin's feet. If the lad had more limbs, they would definitely be poking another of their group somewhere irritating.

Balin chuckled, snapping Bilbo out of his amused daze. "He's always been a restless sleeper, our Kili. Why, when him and his brother were little and had to share a bed we never heard the end of it from Fili."

"They shared a bed?"

He cleared his throat. "The year after Erebor was lost wasn't the most... comfortable year. In fact, the first three weren't. It wasn't until we were properly settled in the Blue Mountains and money had finally started trickling in that most of us could afford to move out of share houses with multiple families."

Bilbo whistled sympathetically. "That bad, hey?"

"Aye, laddie. That bad." He clapped Bilbo on the shoulder and guided him towards the front door. "So you must understand why we need to get our home back, to set things back how they should be. Erebor held the most fruitful mine the northern hemisphere has ever seen, and it was so beautiful with its polished marble steps and towering ceilings; oh I can't wait to see your face when you first lay eyes upon it. It's truly otherworldly, the beauty of it all."

"It sounds lovely." Bilbo spoke softly, getting a sudden pang of homesickness. "But I don't understand why you'd need my help? If anything I've just been getting in the way."

Balin tutted good-naturedly, opening the front door and patting Bilbo on the shoulder as they walked out into the misty early morning. "I've got a rather special request for you, one I think you will do brilliantly."

"I'm listening..." Bilbo prompted dryly, raising an eyebrow.

They both sat on a rustic wooden bench by the front stairs, Balin releasing a pleased hum as he observed the beautiful forest scene before him. "Lovely place this is, Beorn has done a great amount of work. Did you see the giant bee hives near the rear gate? Gorgeous little houses he's made, with little roofs and everything."

"It's lovely, yes." Bilbo replied politely, wondering if Balin would ever get to the damned point.

"And Thorin, I take it you find him to be lovely as well?"

He frowned, instantly suspicious of the change of conversation. "Of course, and you should know that I plan to stay as long as he'll have me."

Balin nodded, crossing his right leg over his left. "Yes you two appear to be serious about each other, which is excellent. But I do have one question for you: do you want to be a _liked_ partner, or do you want to be a _good_ partner?"

"Both, what sort of a question is that?" Bilbo scrunched his nose and rubbed it with the back of his hand, the cold starting to agitate it. 

"It's quite straightforward, really. Will you do everything in your power to be a good partner for Thorin, even if he hates you for it later down the track?"

Bilbo stared dumbly up at him. "And again, what sort of a question is that! We've only been seeing each other for a few weeks, I hardly think it's time to start questioning if I'll be a submissive boyfriend or not."

"I still need an answer, laddie. And then I'll decide if you can help me or not."

"Jesus." Bilbo sat back on the bench, running fingers through his riot of curls. "Well I haven't really given it much thought, but I don't want to be a trophy-boyfriend for Thorin when he goes to glamorous dinners and such, something just to be paraded about. I'll tell him when he's being an arse or a git, and give him a reality check if he ever starts getting uppity with all the power of being PM and such." He groaned. "So a _good_ partner, I suppose."

"Good. Then I can ask what I was planning to ask." He turned in his seat, chest facing Bilbo. "How do you feel about keeping secrets from Thorin, even if it's for his own good?"

"I really don't like where this is going."

"I saw that little stunt you pulled with Azog, sneaking about and slipping out of sight. And I need you to use those skills to protect Thorin from something that could bring down his entire world."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "Are you lot always this dramatic before breakfast? Sure you lot aren't secretly Hobbits?"

The older man broke into amused chuckling, shaking his head. "No laddie, we're not." His smile fell. "But I do need you to sneak into Erebor without Thorin knowing, and steal The Arkenstone."

He choked on the breath he was taking in and rocked forward, slamming his fist into his chest. "You're fucking joking, right?!" Bilbo looked to his right to see Balin's expression, which was grave and had no hint of joking to it. "Christ, you really are serious about this."

"Aye."

Bilbo let out a shaky breath. "And why do you need me to keep The Arkenstone from Thorin?"

"There is information on there that would ruin Thorin, just as it ruined his father. The power contained within that accursed device needs to be managed by Thorin's sister and I, if Thorin were to find out who his father truly was..." He broke off, staring up at the cloudly grey sky. "I fear what it would do to Thorin. It would eat at him from the inside out, change him."

"You're _absolutely_ certain?"

"Thorin's father, Thrain, was a corrupt man. Unlike his father, Thrain, and his fathers before him; most of his power came from blackmail and other unsavoury ways, and eventually the power drove him mad. Before he died he barely left his private office and spent all of his time with The Arkenstone, feeding it with new knowledge." Balin's voice lowered to a soft murmur, but lost none of its intensity. "It's a cursed thing, that device. And it must never come to light."

"Christ. Does anyone else know about this?"

"Dis, myself, and Gandalf are the only people that know. Let too many in, and we risk letting Thorin find out."

Bilbo did a single, curt nod. "So that's how it is, then. I'll just sneak in, magically, when Thorin has his back turned, and retrieve it from under Smaug's nose and get it to you. Simple, really." He finished, tone thick with sarcasm.

"Now I'll have none of that, once we get to Erebor I'll be able to formulate a concise plan. But until we get to Erebor, we're just going to have to hope for the best."

"Brilliant."

"No point making a plan beforehand, only God knows what's waiting for us there." He clapped his hands together suddenly, breaking Bilbo out of his reverie. "But worrying will do us no good, best not to dwell on it until we get there."

"I'm filled with hope." Bilbo snorted, pulling the warm blanket closer around himself. 

"You should be, there's a chance we can save Thorin from the same madness that consumed his father." Balin shot him a pointed look. "I can trust you won't let anything slip to either Thorin or any of the group, yes?"

"I can begrudgingly keep my mouth shut, not to worry."

"Perfect, we won't have any issues then."

 

\---

 

Bilbo pushed his plate away from him, utterly full and satisfied from the homemade honey cakes Beorn had made freshly for the group for desert. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I can't eat another bite, Beorn. Stunning cakes you've made here, really, but I may explode if I have any more."

Their host's booming laugh rang out around the small dining room. "I've never seen someone put away that much cake, little bunny. Are you storing it in your fluffy tail?"

Quite a few amused snorts sounded around the table and broke the silence, but Bilbo elected to ignore them. "Hollow legs, actually."

Beorn reached across the table and punched Bilbo companionably in the shoulder. "You're a funny one, I like you. You can stay however long you like." He cleared his throat, and stared around the table till he locked eyes with Gandalf. "Speaking of which, when do you think you will be leaving?"

"Later tonight, if it suits you. We'll need a guide to the edge of the forest, and then we make for Mirkwood."

The burly man grimaced. "And why would you need to travel to that poisonous place?"

Balin, sitting to Gandalf's left, started as if he was about to cut in, but was silenced by a placating hand on his wrist from the Journalist. "The next place we'll visit is Erebor."

"And Azog is closing in on your tail, I heard wind of him back in the Peak District." Beorn's face darkened, and he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I wondered why Thorin Durin and his company had travelled this far north. It seems I wasn't too far off. You're heading for the mountain, aren't you?" 

"We're taking back our home." Thorin replied gravely, nodding in Beorn's direction. 

"Good, it's been long enough. I've heard whispers of what Smaug and his men have been up to in your absence, and none if it has been good." He growled. "Especially for the native wildlife and surrounding lands. There have been rumours he's been over-mining the land, poisoning the water table. Smaug needs to be removed. And soon."

Balin nodded diplomatically. "Aye, and we'll reclaim it as soon as we can." He looked up at Gandalf. "Speaking of which, how do you plan to get us there?"

"Well, I was hoping we could get a little help on the way." Gandalf winked over at Beorn. "If anyone's offering."

Beorn rolled his eyes and released a long-suffering sigh. "What do you need?"

 

\---

 

Bilbo tightened the straps of his backpack and beamed up at Thorin. "So camping then, hey?"

He chuckled softly and pressed in closer, fingers intertwining with Bilbo's. "It's not as exciting as you might imagine, it's a lot of sitting around and doing nothing. In the cold." He stressed.  "With no electricity."

"Well I'm sure we could work out _some way_ to warm ourselves." Bilbo squeezed his hand, smirking up at him. 

"With fabric-thin walls, sure. Making eye contact with everyone the next day would be utterly painless." 

Bilbo snorted. "You do have a point."

"I have my moments." He faded off, looking around the clearing. 

At the rear of Beorn's house resided a seemingly unimportant shed, with hip-high piles of chopped wood at its entrance, the structure seeming like it would contain something like a tractor or rusting truck.

What lay inside was far more interesting.

Beorn had transformed the building into a workshop and bunker, complete with rations and semi-automatic weapons. But the crown jewel of the collection was the small Mini Cooper fleet in the centre of the space. 

The front of the shed swung open, revealing said vehicles, and Bilbo gasped appreciatively. "They're gorgeous."

Beorn sauntered up to the couple and beamed down at him, revealing all his teeth in a toothy grin. "I've been collecting them for years, tinkering keeps me busy."

"But... How do you fit?"

"Very carefully, especially with the older models." Beorn laughed, slapping his knee, and threw a set of keys to Bofur as he walked past. "Bring out the four at the front, the black ones."

Bofur grinned up at him. "It would be my absolute pleasure." And happily jogged over to the closest Mini. 

"You're letting us borrow them?!" Bilbo asked, eyes wide.

Beorn smiled warmly down at him. "You're not going to get very far on foot, and I have a friend who lives on the borders of Mirkwood, you can leave them with him and I'll retrieve them later." He raised a bushy eyebrow down at him. "And I expect them to be in one piece."

He swallowed dryly. "I'll hassle them, but I can't make any promises."

Thorin chuckled. "You've so much faith in us, I feel so flattered."

"Ha ha." Bilbo spoke sarcastically, elbowing him in the ribs. "Keep on like that and you'll be sleeping in the car, mister."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't say anything."

Bored by the affectionate teasing before him, Beorn made a noncommittal noise and strolled off towards the makeshift garage, hollering orders at Dwalin and Nori to start driving the other spare cars.

"Well, this is it. We're really doing this." Bilbo mumbled, eyes scanning the busied activity before him. 

Thorin's hand encircled his once more and squeezed. "I'm glad you're here by my side." 

"So am I." Bilbo replied as his stomach clenched with guilt.

Dwalin drove a sleek black Mini close and rolled the window down. "Get in the back, lovebirds. It's time to get back on the road."

"On it." Bilbo opened the door and climbed in, happy for the subject change. He made himself comfortable, putting his back pack on his lap, turned to see how Thorin was faring, and let out a bark of surprised laughter.

Thorin scowled down at him. "How the hell did Beorn fit, I'm a head shorter than him." He whinged, knees squished comically against his chest, glaring holes into the offending driver's seat before him. 

"Oh you poor thing." He cooed, sliding his phone out of his pocket. "We'll have to find a human-sized shoe horn to get out when we get to out next stop."

"Hilarious." Thorin grunted dryly, trying to wiggle back against his seat and find a better angle for his long legs. 

Utterly pleased that his partner was distracted, Bilbo raised his iPhone slowly and sneaked a quick picture, grinning like a loon at his screen when he saw the final result. Thorin's face was scrunched up, his arm around his knees, and was opening his mouth as if to swear profusely at the situation he was in. It was brilliant. 

He subtly put his phone back in his pocket and said nothing, but looked in the rear vision mirror and caught Dwalin's eye, which winked at him, making him blush bright red.

Bilbo rolled down his window, staring out into the night sky. "At least the stars are out."

"Stars won't unfold my bloody legs." Thorin moaned, making Bilbo erupt into smothered laughter.

"Come off it, Thorin. We won't be driving for too long."

The passenger door opened and Balin slid in, a giant back pack in his arms. "We'll be a few hours, actually. So best get comfortable."

Thorin groaned. "Fantastic."

Dwalin snorted, turning the key in the ignition. "Gandalf's given the signal, seatbelts on everyone."

The Hobbit leaned out the window and saw Beorn fold himself into the passenger's side of the Mini at the head of the convoy. "Beorn seems to be doing fine..." He trailed off as he peered at the front seat, and noticed that Dwalin had pushed his seat the entire way back. 

The Head of Security turned and winked at him, and put the car into first. "Well we best get going, then."

Bilbo laughed to himself and sat back in his seat, putting on his seatbelt. This was going to be an interesting drive. 

 

\---

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UNNECESSARY LIFE UPDATE TIME:
> 
> So I just moved house!  
> Which is sort of crazy but also amazing because I'm so close to the city and work!  
> As opposed to super suburbia I used to be in.  
> And getting unpacked, settled etc has taken a few weeks, but here I am!!
> 
> As per usual... heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Magestic Beta for this chapter: [lanaaa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lanaaaa)
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome, and thoroughly appreciated.


	23. Pitching Tents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title double entendre intended.  
> Genitals alert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill.
> 
>   
> 

"Fuck camping, fuck the cold, and most importantly fuck Smaug for forcing us to hide in the woods like Robin Bloody Hood." Bilbo swore colourfully as he sat down with a huff, crossed his arms and glared angrily at the fire before him.

Thorin only chuckled softly in response and sat on the camping stool beside him, wrapping an arm around Bilbo's back. "Anything else?"

"Yes, actually." He shot a withering look up at Thorin. "Fuck you for making me dig the bloody toilets, my lower back is utterly ruined." Bilbo poked him in the chest. "On that note, there is absolutely no way in hell I'm shitting in a hole, Thorin! _A hole!"_

"We don't have a choice, it's not like there's any plumbing out here..." He paused and smirked. "And besides, you couldn’t exactly help with pitching the tents, you're too... short."

He shoved his elbow into Thorin's side and wryly smiled at the surprised ' _oof_!' the politician made. "Not so short that I can't do that, _my dear._ "

Thorin raised both hands in surrender. "Alright! Sorry!" He lowered his hands and snaked his arm around Bilbo's lower back once more. "Thank you for digging the loos, love."

"You're welcome." Bilbo grumbled, pulling his arms around himself.

The politician snuggled in closer. "Are you warm enough?"

"For now." He rubbed his gloved hands together, thoroughly glad he had remembered to pack them. "I'm still warm after all that manual labour, I'm sure I'll be whinging about the chill in a bit."

"Thank you for the kind warning." Thorin teased, pressing a kiss to the Hobbit’s auburn curls. "Did you want to wear my spare hoodie? It can easily fit over that cardigan you're wearing."

Bilbo sniffed wetly and rubbed the back of his hand against his nose; the damned thing always ran when it got too cold. "If it's not too much of a bother."

"You're never being a bother." Thorin kissed his forehead again, his stomach doing a small flip when he saw the bashful smile on Bilbo's face. "I'll go fetch it."

The Hobbit reached over and squeezed his knee in thanks, and tucked his hands user his arms as Thorin stood up and walked over to the closest parked mini, which contained all of their packs.

It was a lovely little campsite they had pulled together, the four Minis making a protective circle that the tents were all built within, the cars a last defense against the harsh night wind. They'd found a small clearing to hide in, just near the edge of a woodland, but the surrounding sparse trees gave little or no relief from the chilly gusts of air. Inside the ring of tents lay the campfire, built inside a found empty oil drum that appeared to have been used for the same purpose once before, it's sides blackened by fire and soot.

Content with staring lazily into the fire, Bilbo momentarily forgot his aching back and felt his body start to relax, the flickering warm light pulling him into a trance-like state. He felt the warmth at his side return, and a lump of soft fabric dumped unceremoniously in his lap. Blinking slowly, he broke out of his reverie and looked down at the old and well-loved grey Oxford hoodie in his lap. “Thank you."

Thorin snorted. "It isn't going to do you much good on your lap, might I suggest putting it on, perhaps?"

"Now _that's_ an idea." He responded dryly as he pulled the hoodie up and over his head, laughing softly under his breath as he looked down and saw how much he was swimming in it, the sleeves at least five inches too long.

"You look cosy." Thorin shuffled in closer, pressing his thigh against the shorter man’s, voice lowering to a soft murmur. "Have I told you before how much I enjoy seeing you in my clothes?"

"I believe it's been mentioned at least once, yes.” Bilbo looked down at the grey hoodie he was wearing, then up at Thorin who was wearing a matching navy one. “Of course you have two of these. Jesus, and now we match, we’re officially one of those awful couples who start sentences with _“Thorin and I think…"_

“Next we’ll be going to farmers markets and talking about the merits of yoga…” He joked, then groaned. "Wait, I _do_ yoga. Shit."

“You still haven’t shown me how flexible you are, I think I’m owed a demonstration."

Thorin’s eyes darkened. “Oh really?"

“Definitely, I can think of a few way you can show me.” He reached up to tangle a hand in Thorin's hair and pulled him into a lazy kiss, all slow with no small amount of tongue. It was lovely while it lasted, Thorin reaching over to dig his fingers into Bilbo's thigh, but they were rudely interrupted by a loud, pointed cough.

The two broke apart and glared up at Bofur, who had his arms crossed and was smirking down at them, thoroughly entertained by how put out the couple looked. "Save it for the tent, lads. We'd all like to keep our dinner down, if that's alright with you two."

Bilbo blushed bright red and looked around the campfire, met with smirks and winks from the rest of the group. "Ah. So much for thinking we were alone then."

Bofur chuckled good-naturedly and sat down on a nearby stool. "Not quite, no. That's the thing about setting up camp, once it's done, there isn't really anywhere to sit except here. Around the fire. All of us."

He flipped Bofur off. “Yeah I’ve got it mate, keep the PDA’s to the tent."

"Ah don't be like that Bilbo, I was only teasing." He reached forward and rested a hand on his shoulder companionably. "It's just so much fun teasing you, you're get so flustered when I catch you and Thorin out, I can't help it."

Thorin rolled his eyes and moved his hands on Bilbo to more... acceptable places. "You said you were getting more firewood."

Bofur smirked and pointed to the large pile of new logs by the fireside. "What, you mean _that_ firewood? The firewood that we found and brought back to camp over five minutes ago, but you two were too busy investigating each other’s tonsils to hear us come back?"

"Ah."

Bilbo looked between the two and rolled his eyes. “Well. I think I might go to bed, actually. I’m exhausted." He avoided everyone's amused smiles and pecked Thorin chastely on the lips, mumbled a farewell, and headed off towards his tent.

Once inside, he exhaled loudly and sat on his arse, then slowly fell to his side onto the inflated double mattress that him and Thorin would share, closing his eyes. "Well, that was fucking rude." He groaned to himself as he adjusted his half-hard prick in his jeans and then busied himself about kicking his shoes off. As quickly as he could, he unzipped the sleeping bag and dived in, hissing as the cold air bit at his feet. More clothes came off and were thrown out of the sleeping bag, leaving him in only a baggy olive green t-shirt and grey pants, his pyjamas all the way back in Hobbiton.

He pulled the hood of the sleeping bag up around his head, tightened the drawstring at his neck so he looked utterly ridiculous, but smiled to himself as he felt the cold air at the back of his neck disappear. "Much better."

Bilbo closed his eyes and let out a satisfied hum, wiggling back into the air bed. Utterly exhausted, he fell into a deep sleep within moments, the flickering of the firelight dancing softly against his closed eyelids as the warm blanket of unconsciousness wrapped around him and pulled him under into blissful sleep.

 

\---

 

That was, until his majestic tent roommate decided to come in and head for bed.

"Damned... Shoes... Jesus."

Bilbo peeled an eye open, groggily surveying the scene unfolding before him. Thorin was sitting down on the edge of the bed, back towards him, numb fingers trying to undo his shoelaces. "Need any help?"

“Damn, I've woken you."

He yawned loudly and arched his back, making him look like a blue worm doing yoga. "'S fine, just hurry up and come to bed."

"Working on it, darling." Thorin wrestled both shoes off, then turned to smile at Bilbo softly. "You just stay all warm and rugged up till I get there."

"I'll try my hardest." He yawned loudly once more, then smacked his lips together. "But you'd better hurry if you want a night kiss, I'm just about ready to nod off again."

"We can't have that, now." Thorin teased, searching through his bag for his faded grey baggy tracksuit bottoms that he wore in winter. "I'll be restless all night if I don't get my goodnight kiss."

Bilbo rolled his eyes and directed a gooey smile up at him. "Just shut up and get in bed."

“Someone’s feeling impatient." Thorin blew a teasing kiss at him, then stood up and dropped his trousers, hissing loudly, the freezing air wreaking havoc on his bare legs. “Christ that’s cold!"

"Get down here, I need that ridiculous body heat of yours!"

Thorin sighed happily when he pulled his woolen trousers on and yanked on a knitted grey beanie over his head. Once dressed, he paused and smirked down at him. "How quickly do you want me?"

"Now, Thorin! You're always so bloody warm and it's freezing!"

"As you wish." He smirked, crossed his arms over his chest, and fell sidewards onto the air mattress... catapulting Bilbo into the air.

"Fucking what?!" Bilbo howled in surprise as he lifted into the air, hit the side wall of the tent and slid down to the floor in a pile of bright blue sleeping bag. He rolled over onto his side so he could see Thorin and squinted his eyes to dangerous slits. "Stop fucking laughing. _Now_."

Thorin's howling laughter doubled in volume, his face turning bright red as he curled into himself, covering his mouth with one hand. "Jesus... I didn't think... But... You flew!... So high... Oh God... Getting a stitch..."

Bilbo scowled over at him. "You fucking deserve it, you prick! I swear I just got over three feet of air!"

"Three feet!!... Oh Christ... Not helping!" Thorin struggled through sharp breaths, tears streaming down his face as his laughter became so intense that no sound was able to come out.

"Oh pull yourself together, you big idiot." Bilbo groaned as he wiggled back onto the mattress, begrudgingly desperate for Thorin's radiating body heat.

"And you... A flying caterpillar... Like the smoking one out of Alice in Wonderland." His laughter worsened even further, his shoulders shaking from the silent mirth.

"Shut it, you'll wake the whole camp." He scolded, frowning down at him - which only worsened Thorin's state.

"Can't take you seriously... blue smoking caterpillar... too funny..."

"Oh get off it, I look nothing like a caterpillar."

"Waiting for you... pull out a pipe... blow smoke rings."

"Alright that's quite enough." Bilbo hissed as he slid a hand out of the tight string at his neck and pulled back the hood, revealing his outrageous bed head. "People are trying to sleep! Shush!"

Thorin closed his eyes and breathed in roughly, hands resting on his chest as he turned to lay on his back. "Sorry, sorry, I've just never seen something so hilarious in my entire life." He sniffed and wiped away the tears from his face, his shoulders still shaking with the aftershocks of his intense laughing session. "I've never seen someone _fly_ before."

He swatted Thorin's chest and shuffled over the mattress so he was lying between the politician's long legs, and scowled down at him. "You're an utter git. You know that, don't you?"

Thorin beamed up at him, cupped Bilbo's face with both hands, and pulled him down so he could pepper his face with kisses. "Come on, we both know you can't stay angry at me."

Bilbo willed himself not to smile, biting the inside of his cheek. "The absolute worst, you are. A real menace."

"A menace, huh?" He chuckled, laying his head back on the air bed, one hand still cupping Bilbo's cheek. "I didn't hurt you anywhere, did I?"

He snorted. "Just my pride." Bilbo's voice lowered to a grumble. "Smoking caterpillar my bloody _arse_."

The politician let out a bark of laughter, and propped himself up on his elbows so he could give Bilbo a slow, lingering kiss. "I'm sorry, you're not the old caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland, you're the cutest caterpillar I've ever seen."

"Thorin!" He punched him playfully in the arm. "I look nothing like a damned caterpillar!"

He raised both eyebrows and slowly racked his eyes over Bilbo pointedly. "Have you even _seen_ yourself?"

Bilbo looked down at himself, the bright blue sleeping bag now tucked under both arms, and groaned. "I'd say I'm more of a mermaid now, actually."

"Are you going to sing to me and lure me down into the water?" Thorin teased, tucking one of Bilbo's wild curls behind an ear. "I'd rather you didn't give up your voice for a pair of legs, to be honest. I enjoy talking to you, even when you call me a big idiot."

"You _are_ an idiot, though."

Thorin smirked. "Yes. Yours."

He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Well now I _really_ can't stay mad at you, when you say things like that."

"See? Told you." He pecked Bilbo on the lips, then lay back, crossing his arms behind his head. "It's my rugged charm, isn't it? My roguish looks? The fact that I'm an excellent kisser?"

"You're a prat." Bilbo rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You're lucky I love you, otherwise I would have thrown you out of this tent ages ago."

The smile Thorin directed up at him was positively radiant. "Say it again."

Bilbo smirked. "You're a prat."

"Come on." He pouted. "You know what I mean."

"Goodness, you're pushy tonight." Bilbo teased as he lowered himself onto Thorin's chest and braced himself on both elbows, framing the taller man's face. "I love you, even though you say I look like a caterpillar and bounce me out of bed." He paused and kissed Thorin roughly, groaning into the kiss as he felt the taller man's hands reach up and cup his arse through the sleeping bag.

"I love you too." Thorin moaned back, spreading his legs wider so he could pull Bilbo in close, his hands massaging at the Hobbit's cheeks. "How about we get you out of that sleeping bag, hmm?"

Bilbo didn't say anything in reply, he only nodded and made encouraging noises, his tongue doing far more important things than talking. He lifted one arm from beside Thorin's face and reached down to unzip himself, his hand blindly fumbling for the touch of cool metal.

"Here, let me." Thorin's hands swatted Bilbo's away and started slowly undoing the zipper. When they undid as far as they could, his hands disappeared into the warmth of the sleeping bag and started investigating what they found within. “Mmm, I see you’ve saved me the task of undressing you.” He bit Bilbo’s lip and rocked his hips, pressing himself up against the front of Bilbo’s pants. “How kind of you."

“What can I say, I’m a real gentleman.” Bilbo replied breathily, kissing his way down Thorin’s neck to the base of his throat and bit down. “Anything for you, love."

“Anything?” Thorin asked brokenly as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, hands reaching back to squeeze Bilbo’s arse through the thin fabric.

“Shit, not that though!” He hissed, pushing himself up on his arms and away from Thorin’s front. "Your hands are too bloody cold, off!"

"Here, let me warm them up." He released Bilbo's cheeks and pressed the icy palms of his hands against the softness of the Hobbit's stomach, grinning wildly as the he attempted to writhe away.

“Fuck, get those away from me!" Bilbo howled, a mixture of laughter and offended squeals pouring out from his mouth. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!'

Thorin sat up and slid his hands around to Bilbo’s back, batting his eyelashes innocently up at him. "Why, doing what I've been asked, dear."

His eyes squinted to dangerous slits, sleeping bag pooling around his waist as he knelt on his knees. “Warm. Your. Hands."

“Yes, dear.” He spoke softly as he retracted his hands from Bilbo and tucked them under the front of his own hoodie, holding them against his stomach. “Shit, they _are_ cold."

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? That must be so uncomfortable for you, holding them against your bare skin. You poor thing."

“Yes, message received.” Thorin chuckled as he removed his hands from his hoodie and rubbed them together, blowing on them. “I think they’re done, want to test them?"

The Hobbit looked unimpressed. “You first, those icicles are coming nowhere near me till I know they’re warm."

Thorin smirked. “And _where_ am I putting my hands, hmm?"

“Oh.” Bilbo’s eyes darkened. “ _Oh_. _Well_ , a few places spring to mind."

“Hmm, I wonder where?” He teased, still rubbing his hands together. “Perhaps you could direct me?"

He licked his lips. “Only since you asked so nicely.” Bilbo put a hand against Thorin’s chest and pushed him onto his back, positioning himself between his long legs once more, sleeping bag tucked around Bilbo's back and legs to keep him warm. “But I fear these trousers are getting in the way."

“Do something about it, then.”

“Cheeky.” Bilbo slid up Thorin’s body and kissed him roughly, deft fingers working at the loose tie at the front of his tracksuit bottoms. He made quick work of the simple knot and pulled down the trousers so they were halfway down his thighs, and cupped the front of him through his black pants. “I want to watch you touch yourself, but you have to do _exactly_ what I say."

Thorin let out a needy whine. “God, yes."

“Don’t expect me to be easy on you, you’ve been a right git tonight.” Bilbo emphasised with a quick squeeze to his length, eliciting a sharp hiss from the rock-solid politician. “And if you don’t follow my directions perfectly, know now that you won’t be coming tonight. At all."

“Christ.” Thorin propped himself up on his elbows, licking his bottom lip. “What do you want me to do, then?"

The smile Bilbo directed down at him was positively filthy. “Don’t take your pants off just yet, I want you to lightly run your hand up and down your prick, eyes on me."

He did as instructed, making heated eye contact with Bilbo as he stroked himself through his pants, the Hobbit sitting back on his knees between his legs, both arms braced on Thorin's thighs. The taller man's hand drifted to the top of his cock and he thumbed the slit, his usual wanking routine, but his hand was instantly swatted away.

“I thought I said _I_ was the one giving the directions, Thorin.” Bilbo held both of Thorin’s hands by his side, leaning over him. “Do you want to come or not, hmm?"

“S-sorry.” Thorin stuttered, utterly overwhelmed by this new, dominant Bilbo that was before him. And God, did he like it. “Got carried away."

“Understandable.” Bilbo released one of his hands, nudging it to return to Thorin’s aching prick. “You do have such a lovely cock, why, I find it hard to restrain myself from touching or sucking it constantly.” Thorin groaned raggedly, hand beginning to tease himself again. “But you’ve ignored my directions, so I’m sorry but I won’t be touching that delicious part of you tonight."

Thorin made a desperate sound at the back of his throat. “What?"

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll still look after you.” He slithered up Thorin’s body and kissed him messily, ending the kiss by biting his bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. “I found the lube, perhaps we could use it? That is, if you were interested?” Bilbo whispered breathily into his ear, fingers digging into Thorin’s shoulders. “I’m sure you’ll feel amazing stretched around my fingers."

“Yes, God yes.” Thorin spread his legs wider, an open invitation. “But you must know, it’s been a while. Go slow."

Bilbo pushed himself up on his elbows so he could meet Thorin’s eye. “Of course, I said I’d look after you.” He leant down and kissed Thorin again, this time slow and passionate. “Tell me what you want."

“Your fingers, Christ.” He reached up and cupped Bilbo’s face with both hands, moaning as he turned the pressing of their lips into a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. “It’s been too long, I miss it."

He smiled against Thorin’s lips. “How long?"

Thorin pulled Bilbo closer, rubbing their pricks against each other, groaning with satisfaction from the newfound friction. “Years."

“Well, I better make it damn good then.” Bilbo rolled his hips, nosing against the line of Thorin’s throat. “Get those pants off. _Now_."

“Shit.” He swore as Bilbo climbed off him and reached to the side of the bed, where a small bottle of lube, gloves, and a towel lay. Thorin raised an eyebrow at him. “You packed gloves, but no pyjamas?"

Bilbo shrugged innocently. “I didn’t really have time to grab everything when I packed, just the bare essentials.” He pulled on a latex-free glove, making contact the entire time, snapping the wrist of the glove dramatically. “But I think there’s far too much talking and not enough undressing taking place, be a love and won’t you strip for me?"

He sat up and hurriedly removed all clothing from the waist down, revealing his extremely interested and flushed cock. “Better?"

“Much, much better.” He stared at it hungrily, but held his ground. “Such a shame you disobeyed me earlier, all I want to do right now is take you apart, stroke by stroke, till you’re a babbling mess.” His eyes darted up and met Thorin’s, heavy lidded with arousal. "I suppose I’ll just have to ruin you by other means, then."

Thorin nodded vigorously, propping himself up on his elbows. “Sounds fair."

The Hobbit brought the items over to the inflatable mattress, leaving them within arms reach. “Ready?” He tucked the towel under Thorin, for he wasn’t raised in a barn, and would return the inflatable mattress to Beorn in the same state as it was lent to him, sans stains.

“God, yes.” He answered, voice low and gravely.

Bilbo shuffled closer to Thorin, who now had his legs parted obscenely, and swallowed dryly as his eyes scanned the sight before him. “Christ, you’re gorgeous.” He traced his hands reverently up Thorin’s hairy shins to the tips of his thighs and paused, massaging the taut muscle there. “Right. Yes. Go time.”

“You know I fully trust you, Bilbo?” Thorin softly spoke, one hand moving to join Bilbo’s, squeezing it briefly. “Completely."

He locked eyes with Thorin, saw the unadulterated trust there, and felt the small bundle of unease in his stomach melt away. “I know."

“Good.” He released Bilbo’s hand, and shattered the quiet atmosphere with a filthy grin. “Now, I believe you were about to do something with that gloved hand of yours?"

“Prat.” Bilbo rolled his eyes, smiling to himself, and reached over to pick up the small bottle of lube. “Just for that, I’m going to do this-“ He pressed a cold, wet finger against Thorin’s entrance, smirking down at him when he hissed. “-and not warm the lube beforehand. That’ll teach you for speaking out of turn."

Thorin’s elbows slid out from under him and he clutched at the mattress, breath turning ragged. “ _Shit_."

Bilbo felt his own breathing start to roughen, prick already half hard in his grey pants. “I haven’t even pressed inside yet and I can feel how ridiculously hot you are, fuck.” He rested his free hand on Thorin’s thigh and moaned when he slowly started sliding the tip of his finger inside him. “Oh, God."

The second joint of his index finger disappeared into Thorin, making both of them wince; Bilbo from the obscene view of his digit disappearing into Thorin, and the politician from the gentle stretch and burn from the movement.

“If only you could see this right now, it’s incredible.” Bilbo groaned as his whole index finger vanished from sight. “Fuck, you’re so _tight_."

Thorin couldn’t respond audibly and only nodded in response, eyes slammed shut, fingers digging into the mattress below. Bilbo took this as a good sign, and when he felt the muscle start to relax around him, did an experimental rotation of his finger. Instantly Thorin’s whole body shuddered, his knuckles going white.

Bilbo froze. “Shit, what did I-"

“-Do. That. Again.” Thorin ordered shakily, stomach clenching.

“Oh. _Oh_. Right. So that’s where it is.” He bit his lip as he rotated his finger again, brushing against the same spot, making Thorin see stars.

“Jesus Fucking Christ.” Thorin swore huskily, eyes bursting open. “I forgot how intense that feels, God."

“You are so lovely like this.” Bilbo soothed, free hand rubbing circles into the curve of his thigh. “I can’t wait to see what it feels like when you come around my fingers.” He leant down and kissed the soft skin at the inside of Thorin’s thigh, smiling against the skin as he heard the politician take a sharp intake of breath. “Christ, you’re so _sensitive_."

Thorin swallowed dryly. “Another finger.” He paused. “I-If you think it’s a good idea, that is."

Remembering his prior promise to tear Thorin apart, Bilbo’s eyes darkened, and he bit the patch of skin he was currently lapping his tongue against. “Are we asking permission, now?” He bit again, lower this time, then kissed the red mark gently. “How polite of you."

“Bilbo, please?” Thorin keened, voice turning desperate.

His index finger, which had been gently rocking in and out of him, slowly working him open, paused its ministrations. “Anything for you, love.” Bilbo reached down for the bottle of lube that was by the inside of Thorin’s knee, uncapped it with his teeth, and poured a generous amount onto his middle finger. In one fluid movement, he slowly rocked his index finger out, pressed his two fingers together, and gradually pressed both of them inside.

“Shit. _Shit shit shit_.” Thorin wheezed, hands now covering his face.

Bilbo’s fingers sunk deep inside him, as far as they could. “ _Fuck_.” He rested his head on Thorin’s thigh and released a shaky breath. “Christ. You feel _incredible_.”

“So does this.” Thorin replied hoarsely, abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching.

Head still resting on Thorin’s twitching thigh, Bilbo sighed softly as he got a closer look at his fingers rocking in and out of Thorin and bit his lip to stifle a loud moan as he scissored his fingers, the muscle instantly reacting to his touch. “Oh _God_."

Thorin’s hand flew to join Bilbo’s at the crease of his thigh. “ _Again_.” Bilbo did as instructed, and Thorin’s grip tightened over his hand when Bilbo’s digits inside of him separated further this time, his middle finger teasingly brushing past his prostate.

A bead of precum fell from the tip of Thorin’s prick, catching Bilbo’s eye, but he stood his ground. He said he wasn’t going to touch him there, and he would stay strong… hopefully. He licked his lips. This was going to be tough.

And then he did something that nearly very shattered Bilbo’s resolve. Thorin dug his heels into the mattress and rocked up to meet Bilbo’s fingers, slamming them right against his sweet spot, and let out a broken sound. “Holy _shit_.” Bilbo hissed, his free hands’ nails digging into Thorin’s thigh.

If Bilbo thought he was hard before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He had done it, Thorin had been reduced to a wanton mess, rutting his hips up to meet his fingers, and it was breathtaking. “Look at you.” He spoke softly, voice full of wonder, and sat up so he could get a better angle and use his whole arm to push into him.

Thorin snapped his hips up particularly hard, sweat trickling down his brow, and Bilbo decided to up the anti. Without any warning, he slipped a third finger inside him, and nearly melted from the strangled noise Thorin made. “Christ, look how easily you just took that, how effortlessly your body swallowed my extra finger.” He coaxed, using his shoulder to roll his fingers in and out of Thorin. “I wonder how it will feel when I touch your-“

“-Fuck!” Thorin barked, body clenching around Bilbo’s digits. “God, I need to kiss you, shit.” He groaned as he slowly pushed himself up with both arms to a sitting position, Bilbo’s fingers never slipping out of him. “Get over here. Now."

Bilbo happily acquiesced, bare thighs pressing against Thorin’s as he changed the angle of his fingers and locked lips with him messily, all teeth and desperation. Mid-kiss, he pressed at Thorin’s prostate and swallowed his howl, tongue eagerly ravaging his mouth.

“Faster.” Thorin moaned against his lips, one hand grappling at Bilbo’s hip. “Getting. Close."

“Yes, God, yes.” He babbled as he started kissing Thorin’s throat wetly, fingers doubling their pace. “Touch yourself if you need to."

“No. Can come… from this… alone.” The politician wheezed as he slowly let himself lay back on the bed, and did something that almost shattered Bilbo into a thousand pieces. Groggily, Thorin started lifting one leg up and held his knee against his chest, spreading himself wide for Bilbo. “Deeper."

Bilbo nearly came instantly from that sight alone, and had to grab and shock his prick into submission, cupping the front of himself through his pants. “Bloody hell, Thorin.” He stared dumbly down at him, shook his head, and got focused. “Right.” And doubled his speed.

“Oh God.” Thorin babbled, rotating his hips up to meet Bilbo’s thrusts. “Too much, it’s too much. Need to come. Shit."

“I’m going as fast as I can, love.” Bilbo soothed, his fingers pumping mercilessly into him. “How about four? Or will you not be able to sit tomorrow?"

“Four, fuck it. Do it.” He whimpered, falling apart at the seams, nails digging into his knee.

Bilbo fumbled with the lube, other hand still working at Thorin, and smeared a generous amount over his thrusting fingers, making a mess all over the towel below. “Here we go.” He tilted his fingers upwards in Thorin’s fluttering hole, pressed once against his prostate, and used the distraction to slip a fourth finger in, filling him to the brim.

Thorin’s eyes widened, his jaw slack. “Oh. My. God.” He hissed in time with Bilbo’s thrusts, his whole body shaking. “Speed up, nearly there. Shit."

Knowing it was probably going to be too much, Bilbo started relentlessly hitting Thorin’s prostate. Listening keenly for any sounds of distress, he leant in closer, but all he heard were broken, blissful sounds. “More?"

“Yes, oh my-“ He broke off as his whole body clenched and spurts of come striped his chest, ruining his hoodie. Not that he cared, laundry was the last thing on his mind, his orgasm slicing through him so intensely that he felt like his body was floating.

The Hobbit collapsed by his side, rolled on his back as he took the glove off and threw it to the other side of the tent, where it fell in a heap by the door. “Well shit.” He huffed, utterly out of breath, feeling like he had just run a marathon. “That did not go at all like I expected."

Still a gooey mess from his orgasm, Thorin reached over and pulled him close to his chest, ignoring his indignant squealing when a patch of come hit him in the eyebrow. “Jesus, Thorin! Watch the face!” Bilbo hissed, slapping him on the shoulder.

“Don’t care.” He sighed, basking in the afterglow.

“Look at you, you’re a mess.” Bilbo wriggled out of his grasp, folded the towel to a clean spot, and started dabbing at his groin and chest. “A sated, happy mess."

“Hmmm.” Thorin hummed cheerfully, eyes closed. “Hurry up, I need to kiss you.” He made grabby hands at Bilbo, pulling him down to join him on the bed.

Bilbo laughed brightly under his breath, tossing the dirty towel aside, and snuggled up to his chest. “How we feeling?"

“Incredible.” He opened his eyes and tugged him in closer, kissing his forehead. “How about you though?"

He looked down at his aching prick and winced, noticing the wet patch that he had made. “I should probably look after that."

“Please, let me.” Thorin offered huskily as he turned on his side and lapped lazily into his mouth, hand disappearing into the front of his pants and twisting as it wrapped around the head of his cock.

“Ohhhh God.” He keened, wrapping both arms around Thorin’s neck, thrusting up into his fist.

Thorin gave him exactly what he wanted, he made it dirty and fast, biting at Bilbo’s lips and neck, hand pumping at his weeping prick relentlessly. “Come on, love.” He coaxed, thumb momentarily teasing at his slit before his hand returned to its vigorous ministrations.

In next to no time at all he bit down hard on Thorin’s shoulder blade and came hard, Thorin stroking him through his shuddering orgasm and whispering soft affirmations in his ear the entire time. “Christ that was worth the wait.”

They both lay on their backs for a few minutes, catching their breath, the side of their thighs pressed together.

Thorin was the first to recover, and started working at the mess on his hand and Bilbo’s front, Bilbo sighing contentedly as Thorin haphazardly dabbed at him with the ruined towel.

He snorted. “I think the only way to cleanse that towel is going to be with fire, the poor thing."

“We’ll throw it into the campfire tomorrow night, sound good?” Thorin teased as he tossed the towel away and began to pull on a pair of clean pants.

Bilbo watched raptly, never tiring of seeing Thorin’s bare skin. “Throw us a pair, will you?” A pair of black pants hit him in the face. “Gee, thanks."

He chuckled amusedly, bring his sleeping bag over to rest next to Bilbo’s, and climbed in. “Need any help there?"

“I’m fine, thanks.” Bilbo huffed, legs still a touch wobbly from his recent orgasm. “I think I’ll just… put these on sitting down.” He did so, and slipped them on easily. “Ah. There we go."

“Come to bed.” Thorin whispered, patting the mattress beside him. “I want to kiss you a bit before we go to sleep."

The Hobbit rolled his eyes. “Fine, if I have to.” He teased, sliding up the bed to join him. “Just let me get in this sleeping bag.” Bilbo pointed at him dangerously. “And not a word about caterpillars."

Thorin made a zipping motion on his lips. “Promise."

“Good.” He did the sleeping bag up to his chest and sighed contentedly as Thorin’s arms encircled him and brought him in close.

“Love you."

“Love you too."

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Writing that was certainly an experience.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Un Beta'ed this chapter. Apologies if there are any errors, I'll try find them all!
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	24. Gold Tinted Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin wake up,  
> Clothes are attempted to be pulled on,  
> And the couple have to face the rest of the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the next round. Genitals ahoy.
> 
>   
> 

Sighing contentedly, Bilbo arched his back and stretched his arms above his head, yawning loudly. "Fuck it's bright, what time issit?" He slurred, flinging an arm over his eyes, the thin tent fabric not doing much to shield them from the late-morning sunlight.

A bare, furred forearm snaked it's way around his middle and pulled Bilbo backwards towards a solid chest. "Mornin'" Thorin whispered huskily, voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Hello handsome." Bilbo turned around in Thorin's hold and kissed him soundly, ignoring the God-awful morning breath the politician always sported before he brushed his teeth. "Sleep well?"

Thorin hummed happily in response, depositing a wet kiss to his neck, making Bilbo's toes curl. "You well and truly knocked me out." He snorted. "Again."

He swatted Thorin's chest playfully. "Hey, I apologised for that!" His voice softened. "Prat."

"Yes I do seem to remember an apology, but no real attempt to _make it up to me_." Thorin smirked, one hand slipping down Bilbo's back to cup his arse through the sleeping bag. "I can think of a few ways you could repay me for braining me with a rock."

Bilbo groaned. _"I apologised!_ It's been days!"

The politician pouted, eliciting a bright bark of laughter from his companion. "Come to think of it, I think I still have a bump somewhere, have a look." He bowed his head and unceremoniously shoved it in Bilbo's face, making him splutter, mouth suddenly filled with coarse dark hair.

He swatted Thorin away, chucking under his breath. "You're insufferable."

"Yes, dear." The taller man replied sweetly, shuffling in closer so his body pressed flush against Bilbo's, chest to cheat, and leant in for a languid kiss which the Hobbit responded to eagerly.

Happy just to cuddle while he slowly woke up, Bilbo rotated in the taller man's arms and shuffled back into the embrace as the couple fell into a comfortable silence. The soft morning light filtered through the pastel yellow tent roof and walls, creating a warm golden glow to the space within, and Bilbo released a contented sigh. It felt safe, intimate, and he felt a sudden wave of nostalgia hit him as he lay in Thorin's arms, watching the dancing tree silhouettes flicker around them.

His voice was gentle and soft, barely audible above the rustling of leaves. "Can I ask you something, and _don't_ take the piss."

Thorin snorted. "You have my attention."

"Git." Bilbo slapped the forearm that was splayed over his chest playfully, but continued. "I wanted to ask, what was your first opinion of me all those weeks ago, back in Hobbiton?"

"Don't you mean on the plane?"

It was Bilbo's turn to snort. "That didn't count, it wasn't exactly a _meet-cute_."

"Well, we _did_ meet, and you've always been cute." 

"You were a little shit." Bilbo delivered totally deadpanned, making Thorin let out an amused huff.

"You spilled whiskey on my best suit!"

Bilbo rotated in Thorin's embrace and propped himself up on one elbow so he could shoot the politician the dirtiest look he could muster. "My mistake, you were a giant shit. No, wait. A _tower_ of shit. We're talking a _Tower of Babel_ size monstrosity."

"Love you too." Thorin teased, leaning up momentarily to place a lingering kiss upon his lips.

The Hobbit squinted down at him. "Well? Come on. Clock's ticking. First opinion of me, let's have it."

"If I have no choice, then..." Thorin sighed melodramatically. "If you must know, I thought you were a bit like a kitten, I suppose. One of those small angry ones that you can't help but fall in love with, but if you got too close they would draw blood."

He blinked. " _Please_ tell me you're joking."

"Not in the slightest." Another kiss. "You were this mix of angry and gorgeous that I couldn't stop thinking about." His voice dropped to a rough murmur. "And that first time you kissed me when we were locked in that room, I wanked to the thought of it for a week straight."

Bilbo smirked, raising an eyebrow. "I'll be honest, I'm a mix of offended and flattered at the moment."

The politician reached up and stroked his cheek. "Go with the latter, love. And you _did_ say you wanted an honest answer."

"Well, now, this _angry kitten_ is about to lay down some fucking truth. It's only fair." He tapped his bottom lip for a brief moment, then broke out into a shit-eating grin. "I worked it out. You were one of those bloody lone wolves."

Thorin frowned up at him. "I was a _what_?"

"You were!" He gestured wildly. "All majestic, stoic, touchy, and distant."

"Touchy. _Me_."

Bilbo nodded. "Don't think I forgot about the first time you jumped down my throat, back in the front garden of Bell's B&B."

"Well, to be honest, I was a little surprised by the cute pushy stranger who was asking me to share my life story after only knowing him for a day or so.” He smiled slowly. “They really do make them differently there in Hobbiton, that's when it really hit me how far away from London I truly was... in the middle of bloody _nowhere,_ with this gorgeous pocket rocket who had a pony instead of a car, yelling at me in someone’s garden."

That earned him a sharp jab to the shoulder. “The middle of _nowhere_!" He hissed. "Says the man currently in a tent, in the centre of the actual  _woods_."

He shrugged, utterly unapologetic. "Yes but we're laying low. _You_ had a bloody pony and matching cart instead of a Fiat."

"The only thing I have to put into Myrtle is grass and pony treats, pretty sure I'm the winner here."

Thorin patted his shoulder condescendingly. "Sure, darling. Ponies are the new Bugatti's."

"You utter prick, I'm out of here." Bilbo started moving backwards as if he was really going to exit the tent, but was swiftly encircled by Thorin's strong arms and flipped onto his back, laughing brightly as he was manhandled into the new position. 

"Not so fast." Thorin pinned both hands above Bilbo's head, then smirked down at him. "My furry little friend."

Bilbo released a loud, singular burst of laughter. "The cat thing again, really? Please don't let this be a theme for my new string of pet names.” He winced. “Pun not intended."

He hummed pensively, ignoring Bilbo's unimpressed glare. "I think I'll stay with 'love' and 'darling', if that's alright with you?"

"I _suppose_ it will do." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "And I'll stick with 'big idiot'."

" _Nice_."

The Hobbit beamed up at him. "Thanks, I came up with it myself."

Thorin laughed softly and let himself down on his elbows so he was lying down flat on top of Bilbo, but kept most of his weight on his knees and arms so as not to squish the shorter man. "I'm not a lone wolf."

"Not anymore." He reached up and carded his fingers through the taller man's hair, smiling softly as Thorin leaned into the touch. "You're more a big puppy now, one that enjoys scratches."

He harrumphed and raised an eyebrow. "So full of compliments this morning, aren't you?"

Bilbo batted his eyelashes up at him innocently. "Why of course, my dear. Nothing but the best treatment for you, my love."

Thorin snorted and rested his head on Bilbo's chest, humming happily as Bilbo's arms encircled him and continued their ministrations. "Ask something else, I don't like how the first question went.” He pouted. "I'm not _majestic_."

"You're right, you’re not majestic, you’re ridiculous. Especially when you attempt to pout." Bilbo chuckled and started rubbing circles into the taller man's back as he thought of a new question for a few moments. His hands froze. "Oh my God. I remember what I've been wanting to ask for ages." He tapped Thorin's sides excitedly so the politician would raise his head and look at him. "You've got to tell me what musical instrument you fucking play."

"Absolutely not." Thorin groaned and collapsed back onto Bilbo's chest, feigning ignorance to the Hobbit's indignant squawking. "I can't believe you bloody remembered that."

"Of course I do! I tried asking Ori once, he went white as a sheet and refused to tell me from fear of death."

"Good, he's getting a raise."

Bilbo shook the politician's shoulders impatiently. "Come on, reveal your secrets!"

"Absolutely not." Thorin replied, voice muffled from where had slipped down and was trying to hide against Bilbo's soft belly. "You'll laugh at me."

He bit the inside of his cheek preemptively so as not to laugh. "I promise I won't."

Thorin shot a scathing look up at him, chin rested on Bilbo's stomach. He exhaled loudly out of his nose. "I didn't do it on purpose, it sort of just... happened."

The Hobbit nodded encouragingly. "And it's..."

"The keytar."

Bilbo's eyes went wide. " _No_."

"Oh yes." He grumbled and hid his face again in the safety of Bilbo’s sleeping bag.

"I did _not_ see that coming." He stared up at the tent ceiling, mustering his strength to not erupt into a fit of laughter and keep his promise. "I was thinking maybe bass or even saxophone, but _this_? This is _so_ much better."

"Christ, why did I tell you?" 

His chest and shoulders started shaking, but he held his ground and no sound came out. "Please tell me you were in an awful 80s cover band."

The pained moan Thorin released was answer enough. 

"Alright this is the best thing I've heard all week. With who? Please tell me it was with Dwalin and he had magnificent 80s hair." Bilbo grinned, tapping Thorin's head excitedly.

He released a pained sigh. "With Dwalin and Dis. Dwalin on guitar, Dis on drums, and I was on keytar and vocals. And yes, Dwalin had a ponytail."

That was it, the mental image of Dwalin with luscious long hair was fuel alone for him to muffle a snigger, but the three of them in a garage somewhere doing covers of Devo? He had no chance against so ridiculous a picture and erupted into a chorus of laughter, Thorin's mortified groans the backing track.

"Cheers for the support, love." Thorin mumbled despondently, jostled about by Bilbo's shaking shoulders and clenching stomach.

"Oh no I broke my promise, fuck, come up here." He reached down and cupped Thorin's cheeks, leading him up his body to his awaiting mouth, and peppered kisses all over his embarrassed, blushing face. "Oh look at you, you're bright red."

"Leave off." Thorin grumbled, frown melting upon being kissed away by the Hobbit's soft lips. "It's not funny."

Bilbo held his bearded face with both hands, beaming up at him. "It's bloody hilarious, Thorin. You know it is."

He made a mortified sound at the back of his throat and slid down Bilbo's body again, back to the warmth and safety of his belly, and promptly buried his face against it in a mortified rendition of an Ostrich. "You're the worst, I can't believe I told you. I knew you'd be a prick about it."

"Oh you're so adorable when you get embarrassed. Look at you hiding away." Bilbo cooed, pinching one of Thorin's cheeks mockingly, which he promptly swatted away.

"Whyyyy?" He moaned dramatically against the Hobbit's stomach, covering his head with both hands. "Why did I tell you?"

The shorter man started running his nails soothingly over Thorin's scalp, voice lowering to a soft purr. "Because that's what people in relationships do, right? Share embarrassing secrets."

Thorin came out of hiding and shot a blindingly bright smile up at him. "Yes, yes they do."

Bilbo fidgeted with the thin fabric of Thorin's shirt collar, and prepared himself for what he was about to say. "I do know I take the piss quite a lot, but I'd like that, you know, to be in a serious relationship with you. I guess. If you're interested, I mean. I do know we've sort of had this talk a few times, and usually it doesn’t go anywhere because I quickly change the subject, but I think it would be a good idea, I mean, I'd really like-"

His nervous babbling was silenced by the press of Thorin's wind-chapped lips against his, and he sighed contentedly; wrapping both arms around the back of his neck and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. 

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Bilbo spoke breathily against his lips when they broke apart, eyes bright and hopeful.

Thorin propped himself up on one elbow so he could brush Bilbo's curls away from his face with his free hand. "Yes. Of course, yes."

The smile Bilbo directed up at him could have polarised the sun. "Brilliant."

He leaned down and rubbed their noses together. "I love you."

"Love you too."

 

\---

 

After a rather intimate and spectacular mutual wank where Thorin and Bilbo jerked each other slowly, foreheads pressed together, panting heavily, naked and lying on their sides; Bilbo felt like he was fit to bursting with happiness, a sensation he hadn't had for a ridiculously long time.

Still basking in the afterglow, breath ragged, he turned his head and slowly smiled at Thorin. "How we doing?"

Also laying on his back, Thorin reached over and tangled his fingers with the Hobbit's, squeezing once. "Can't complain."

He let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Rude."

Thorin beamed across at him. "Alright, I'm pretty good." He looked down at the pearlescent mess on his chest and winced. "Better once I'm cleaned up, though."

Bilbo propped himself up on his elbows and scoured the small tent for the already ruined towel. "Now where is that damned- ah!" He plucked the bundle of fabric up from the corner of the room and threw it at Thorin's head. 

"Jesus." Thorin ducked just in time to avoid the ball of stained fabric hitting him right in the face. He picked it up from his left and wiped at his stomach, freezing mid-swipe when he heard the towel  _crunch_. “Alright,  _that_ was traumatising."

"You really miss running water when shit like that happens, hey." Bilbo bit his bottom lip, willing away the bout of laughter that was threatening to shatter his calm and supportive guise. "And once we're done with the poor towel I'm tossing it into the fire after breakfast, no amount of TLC can return it to it's former glory. Time to put it out of it's misery."

Thorin snorted and continued wiping his stomach, willing himself not to think about how stiff the towel felt in his hand.  "Absolutely." He threw the bundle back over and smirked as Bilbo released a disgusted groan. "Your turn, love. Enjoy."

"I'm almost tempted to just rub this into my skin and let it be, to be honest." The Hobbit mumbled absentmindedly as he stared at his stomach. Still deciding what to do with himself, he felt the mood shift in the tent, paused his train of thought and turned to look at Thorin, whose eyes had darkened. Bilbo raised an eyebrow slyly. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Knowing that I had a reminder of this morning's tumble hiding under my cardigan for the rest of the day, perhaps all tomorrow as well?"

He licked his lips, pupils now fully dilated, his spent cock doing an interested jolt. "Perhaps."

"Just _perhaps?"_ Bilbo asked, voice lowering an octave. "I don't know if it's worth all the effort just for a _perhaps_."

Thorin whined frustratedly at the back of his throat. " _Please_."

"Are you sure you'll be able to focus, knowing that I'd smell of your come under my clothes? I'd be walking about the camp, talking to your mates, going about with my day, secretly stinking of sex." The Hobbit purred, fingers tracing circles in the quickly drying puddle on his belly. 

" _Christ_." 

Bilbo chuckled darkly."I think you'd like that quite a lot, wouldn't you? Should I consider myself marked, hmm? My skin-"

Thorin rolled over and mashed his lips against Bilbo's, swallowing his surprised yelp. He threw a thigh over the Hobbit's outstretched legs and grabbed his shoulders, tongue mercilessly lapping inside his mouth. Breaking the kiss, he momentarily bit Bilbo's bottom lip and rolled his hips, his prick hardening from the broken moan Bilbo made.

"Don't use the towel." Thorin whispered roughly, one hand tracing down Bilbo's frame to dig into the round flesh of his hip. "I have a _much_ better idea." 

And that was all the warning Bilbo had before Thorin slithered down his body, making heated eye contact the entire time, and lapped at the mess on his chest with his tongue.

Bilbo's hips bucked upward, his eyes widening. "Jesus _fuck_ , Thorin."

He laughed roughly, lips and tongue now working at the small puddle, eyes half-lidded as obscene wet noises filled the small fabric room. "Don't think you're getting fully cleaned up, now." Thorin whispered against his skin, emphasising his point with a well-timed finger that swiped through a streak of come that ran from his hipbone to belly button. "I'm still going to rub this into that gorgeous skin of yours."

" _Shit_." Bilbo slammed his eyes shut, pressing his head back onto the pillow. "Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

A particularly obscene slurp rang out in the small space as Thorin directed his attention to Bilbo's belly button. "Not on purpose, no." He dipped the tip of his tongue into the small circle of skin and Bilbo keened, hands grappling at the mattress below.

"I'm not sixteen anymore Thorin, there's no chance in hell I'll be able to come again in the next hour."

Thorin looked up at him from under his dark eyelashes and raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Oh really now."

He gulped audibly, nodding. "Yes, Thorin-" Bilbo placed a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "-if we have the time I'm definitely up for another round later, but not _quite_ yet."

The politician nosed at Bilbo’s hipbone, releasing a thoughtful hum. “It’s still early, we have plenty of time."

A loud stomach gurgle interrupted the heady atmosphere, and Bilbo flushed bright red. “Well, ah, maybe after some breakfast?"

His shoulders rocked with laughter, forehead resting on Bilbo’s hipbone. “Whatever you want, love.” Thorin spoke warmly, then paused and smiled filthily up at him. “Just as soon as I’m done with the task at hand.” He licked away the last stripe of come, grinning against Bilbo’s warm skin as he heard the Hobbit wince.

“You are fucking _filthy_ , you know that?” Bilbo spoke breathily, propped up on his elbows, gorgeously flushed in the cheeks and watching him with wide eyes.

Taking it as the compliment that it truly was, Thorin pulled himself up and straddled Bilbo’s thighs, hands braced on the Hobbit's hips. “Something tells me you don’t mind so much."

Bilbo licked his lips. “Not in the slightest."

“I’ll continue with what I was doing then, shall I?” He teased, fingertips sliding lightly over the curve of Bilbo’s belly to the patches of wetness at its centre. Biting his bottom lip, he began rubbing the moisture into Bilbo's skin, starting in small circles with the pads of his fingers that radiated out into a full handed massaging motion. 

He melted into a puddle under Thorin’s rough fingertips, head rolling back. “ _Fuck_."

“I could touch your skin all day and not get tired of it, do you have any idea how gorgeous and soft you are?” Thorin muttered roughly, hand slipping down to grab at the tops of Bilbo’s smooth thighs.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t try to stop you if you wanted to.” His elbows slipped out from under him and he fell back onto the mattress, body going limp. “You do have lovely big hands."

Thorin smiled, his hands now running up and down Bilbo’s sides. “I’m glad you enjoy them, they’re all yours."

“How lucky for me.” Bilbo closed his eyes, sighing happily. “Keep doing what you’re doing and I’ll be asleep in a minute."

“It is still rather early, we do need to try to stay nocturnal.” He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Bilbo’s chest. “We can probably nap for another hour before everyone gets up."

“Then get up here and spoon me, you great lump. And unzip a sleeping bag and pull that over us, I’m starting to feel the cold again."

“Yes, love.” Thorin placed another kiss lower, just above his belly button, then pulled a sleeping bag from behind him and started working at the zip.

Bilbo peeled an eye open and gazed up at his partner, enjoying the sight of Thorin’s rippling muscles as he lifted the sleeping bag to shoulder height and began pulling the zipper down, frowning at the fabric when the zip momentarily caught on the fabric. He slid his hands up and started massaging Thorin’s furred thighs. “Hurry up, I want you wrapped around me right bloody now."

Thorin huffed amusedly, eyes remaining locked on the task before him. “I don’t know why I put up with you, you’re so pushy."

“No, I’m bloody  _freezing_.” He slapped the skin under his hands, grinning as Thorin raised an eyebrow and shot an unimpressed look down at him. “Well, come on then!"

He finally unzipped the sleeping bag, grabbed the top two corners, and threw it behind himself so it made a makeshift cape. “How do I look?"

Bilbo snorted. “Utterly ridiculous, now get down here!” He reached up, grabby hands pulling at Thorin’s elbows.

The politician rolled his eyes cheekily, crawled up the inflatable mattress, curled behind Bilbo, and pulled the makeshift duvet over them. He sighed happily, shuffling in close, and burrowed his face in the curve of Bilbo’s neck. “Better?"

“It’ll do, I suppose.” Bilbo teased, bringing one of Thorin’s hands up to his lips, and pressed a chaste kiss to the knuckles. “I must say though, sleeping with you is much more fun when we’re naked."

Thorin slipped one hand down and pinched his arse, chuckling as he heard Bilbo’s predictable yelp. “Can’t agree more."

“We’re going to sleep, Thorin.” Bilbo grabbed the offending hand, placed it on his hip, and closed his eyes. 

He wriggled in even closer. “Night, love."

“Mmph."

 

\---

 

Attempting to get dressed with a handsy, sleepy Thorin was a lot harder than Bilbo expected. After ten whole minutes of uncoordinated manoeuvring and slapping hands away, he had only achieved pulling a fresh pair of pants on.

Thorin seemed determined to keep him naked as long as humanly possible, draping himself over Bilbo’s chest when he tried getting dressed laying down; and when he slipped away and tried to stand up, Thorin had only pulled him back into bed, kissing him all over his face, chuckling under his breath as he did so.

Bilbo raised a finger threateningly in Thorin’s direction as he picked up his crumpled trousers with his free hand. “Don’t even think about it, mister. I’m getting dressed and grabbing breakfast, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Thorin sat up in bed, sleeping bag pooling around his waist tantalisingly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Bilbo bit his lip but kept his resolve. “Don’t play coy with me cowboy, I know what game you’re playing at."

“Cowboy?” Thorin tilted his head to the side and scratched the back of his head, biceps bulging deliciously.

The Hobbit’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Yes, now _stop it._ "

His raised arm fell, pushing the covers down so the solid line of a hipbone was revealed. “Why are you so flushed, Bilbo? Are you sick? Maybe you should come back to bed, yes, I think that would be best."

“No. Nice try, but this Hobbit here is getting dressed and eating some fucking breakfast."

Thorin smirked up at him. “Then why have you been standing still for the past few minutes ogling me, hmm?"

“Have you _seen_ you?” Bilbo gestured at his torso wildly. “It’s all very distracting.” He cleared his throat. “No, you’re not winning. I’m putting these on whether you like it or not, and you should start getting dressed too.”  

He shrugged. “I’ll get breakfast later, I’m enjoying the show too much to get ready just yet."

Another threatening finger was pointed in Thorin’s direction. “Nice try, but this is still happening. _We_ are getting breakfast.” He spun around, bent over, and started pulling on one leg of his trousers. Focusing on his balance intently, Bilbo missed the sounds of rustling fabric behind him, and yelped when he felt warm arms encircle him from behind.

“I could help perhaps?” Thorin purred, running his arms down Bilbo’s, hands ending up over the Hobbit’s smaller ones. “Give you a… _helping hand?_ "

Bilbo groaned roughly in the back of his throat. “Oh fuck you very much you gorgeous bastard.”

He spun around in Thorin’s hold and pushed him back onto the mattress, straddling his hips.

 

It was a while before any clothes were put on.

 

\---

 

Finally, Bilbo emerged out of the tent, face flushed, swatting Thorin’s hands away as he grabbed for his arse. “No, stop it you insatiable lump!” He straightened up, looked around, and swore colourfully.

Thorin climbed out and stood beside him, and when he saw the scene before him burst into laughter.

The campsite was _gone_.

Bilbo shot a piercing look up at him. “And where the hell is everyone, hmm? So much for ‘ _oh we have plenty of time to sleep in Bilbo, let’s have a fucking nap and go for round two!’_ "

He snorted and pointed between the trees, down the slight slope to a distant plume of smoke. “It seems the rest of the group has up and moved."

“And why would they-“ He closed his eyes and pinched his brow. “-I know bloody well why, Jesus H. Christ."

Thorin smirked down at him. “It seems the tent walls were a touch thinner than we thought."

The Hobbit’s blush deepened. “Shit."

“I’m sure we weren’t that loud, they probably relocated so they wouldn’t wake us up when they started preparing breakfast."

He crossed his arms and glared up at him. “If you think I’m buying that bullshit for even a _second_ , you can-"

“-Bilbo! Relax!” Thorin laughed and curled an arm around his waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It’s fine, we can deal with them. After five minutes of teasing they’ll get bored of it, I know they will."

“They better.” He leaned into Thorin’s touch, closing his eyes. “It’s going to be hell, isn’t it."

Thorin took in a breath. “Oh yes."

 

\---

 

“Bilbo, I’d offer you some more sausage, but I assume you’ve had enough the past twelve hours to last you a lifetime, ey lads!"

The circle burst into raucous laughter.

Bilbo groaned into his half-eaten breakfast. “It was funnier the first time, Bofur."

Bofur’s twinkling eyes scanned the group, all of them still guffawing. “I don’t think so, I think this joke has a good week in it."

He looked up and shot Thorin a scathing look, whispering dangerously under his breath. “Five minutes of grief, hmm?"

Thorin winced. “Sorry?"

“Old Oin over here even had to turn his hearing aid off before we moved down the hill!” Bofur slapped his knee, wiping a tear from one eye.

Bilbo slumped into his camp chair. “This is it, this is my nightmare.” He looked solemnly around the group and froze when he caught sight of Fili and Kili who were sitting up far too straightly, lips pursed, pushing their food around their plates, the contents going uneaten. Bilbo slumped even further down, covering his face. “Jesus."

 

\---

 

Blinking slowly, Bilbo looked blearily around the car interior, eyes getting accustomed to the low light. “Christ, my sleeping schedule is so out of whack.” Bilbo groaned, not directed at any of his three companions in particular. “Time?"

Balin chuckled, meeting Bilbo’s gaze in the rear vision mirror. “Around ten, laddie. You’ve been out for a while."

“Well, I am pretty comfortable back here.” Bilbo winced as he sat up, rubbing at the crick in his neck he’d received from sleeping with his face mashed against Thorin’s shoulder. He looked down at their joined hands and smiled softly. 

Dwalin snorted.

“Is you neck alright?” Thorin fussed, hand untangling from his to cup the side of his throat. 

Bilbo swatted his hand away. “I’m quite alright, calm down.” He yawned loudly, scratching his chest. Outside the window was a blur of dark trees, fencing and the odd farm animal; nothing that painted a familiar picture. “Where the hell are we?"

“We’ll reach the edge of Mirkwood soon, where we dump the cars and start on foot.” Dwalin replied gruffly, steering the car around a slight bend to the right.

The Hobbit balked. “On _foot_."

He rolled his eyes. “It’s only a few days hike from Mirkwood to Esgaroth, an easy journey. I’m sure even you will be able to manage it."

Bilbo looked down at his Oxfords. “If my feet don’t fall off beforehand, that is."

“Balin nicked a pair of hiking boots for you a while back, not to worry. Your soft country feet won’t come to any harm.” Dwalin sniggered, gaze locked on the road.

His eyes went wide. “Stolen shoes! Absolutely not, there’s no way in hell I’ll be caught dead in contraband footwear."

The look Dwalin shot at him was positively deadly. “You’ll wear the damn boots.” He sniffed loudly. “We ran out of cash after the motel and had no choice but to nick them, can’t risk using our cards if Smaug has people watching them."

“Wait-what!?” Bilbo sat up straighter, his hackles start to rise. “If they’re watching our bloody bank accounts, what else could they be watching? Our phones? Homes?"

Dwalin shot his brother a look.

The elder Fundinson brother turned around in his seat, a placating smile on his face. “Have you noticed that none of your family have been ringing your phone off the hook, laddie?"

Bilbo frowned. “Well, I suppose? But I called Drogo and told him I was fine, I’m assuming he just told the rest of them."

Balin gave him a look that said ‘oh you sweet and innocent summer child’. “Nori’s blocked all our phones to external calls and secured the lines, so we can all communicate, but can’t be tracked by another party."

He paled. “Excuse me?"

The campaign manager cleared his throat. “We can’t be too careful, which is why so far we’ve only travelled in stolen or borrowed cars. Cash only, travel by night, new transport every day or so.” He sighed tiredly. “My younger brother would prefer we had fresh transport each day, but that’s just overkill."

Dwalin grunted. “I’m right, you know. When Azog and his lackeys catch up to us, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of telling you I was right."

“And you were all going to tell me this _when_ , exactly?” Bilbo looked scathingly at all three of them, a part of him relieved when he saw how surprised Thorin seemed by the whole situation.

Balin smirked knowingly at the politician. “Thorin may be our leader, but most of the planning and strategy lies with Dwalin, Nori and I."

“It’s true.” Thorin shrugged. “I do my bit and they do theirs.” He lifted an arm and brought Bilbo in closer. “They know what they’re doing, trust them."

The Hobbit eyed Balin warily. “Just how much is going on behind the scenes that I don’t know about?"

“Bits and bobs, here and there.” Balin replied vaguely, waving away the insinuation. “As Thorin said, I’m just doing my job."

“I’m filled to the brim with confidence.” He said dryly, ignoring Thorin’s poke to the ribs. 

The sound of crunching tyres on gravel interrupted the heated conversation, making Balin pause. “Never mind, we’re here."

Dwalin dimmed the headlights and turned off the engine when they reached a seemingly abandoned shed, overgrown with vines. He popped the boot and exited the car, not waiting for anyone else, his brother following suit.

Bilbo looked up at Thorin, who was staring out the window towards the forest, silent. “You alright? You’ve been rather quiet tonight."

He shrugged. “Just thinking."

A dry smile appeared on his face. “You, thinking? How dangerous."

Thorin huffed amusedly and squeezed the hand that was resting on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Cheeky."

“I do try.” He unclipped his seatbelt, then shuffled closer to Thorin, who was still staring out the car window. “You didn’t answer my first question though, is everything okay?"

“I just haven’t been here in a very long time, is all.” He spoke reverently, voice low.

Bilbo bit his lip. “Nearly fifteen years?"

The politician broke his thousand-yard stare and looked down at Bilbo, eyes soft. “Around that, yes."

“Well, ah, if it helps… I’m here this time?” He offered, raising a shoulder. 

Thorin’s dour mood evaporated, replaced with warm affection. “It does help.” He leant in for a chaste kiss, and when he pulled back, pressed their foreheads together. “More than you know."

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” Bilbo reached up and cupped his cheek, thumb stroking gently. 

He leant into the touch, closing his eyes, and let out a tired sigh. “Come on, we should go before anyone pokes their head in here and gives us a hard time."

Bilbo snorted. “What, like the hours of teasing over breakfast and lunch? That sort of a hard time?"

“They mean well.” Thorin laughed softly, pecking Bilbo on the lips once more. “Grab your things, Dwalin needs to move the car to the shed."

“Yes, yes. On it.” He untangled himself from Thorin’s arms and got out of the car, pulling his bag onto one shoulder, and walked around the vehicle to the politician's side. “So, what’s the plan?"

Thorin laced his fingers with the shorter man’s, squeezing once. “We wait until the cars are stashed, then make for Mirkwood as soon as Gandalf tells us where we’re going."

He frowned. “But I thought we were just going through the forest."

“As in which _way_ through Mirkwood. He mentioned something earlier about a hidden path."

“How ominous.” Bilbo teased, rolling his eyes. “Knowing Gandalf, that could mean anything."

“Just as long as he leads the way, I don’t care where we go if it’s in the right direction.” Thorin shrugged, leaning back against the car.

Bilbo mirrored his posture, pressing their shoulders together. “Fingers crossed he leads the _entire_ way, and doesn’t leave us stranded or anything."

“Gandalf may have his eccentricities, but I highly doubt he’d leave us when we need him."

He nodded, putting his free hand in his pocket. “You’re right, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s got our back."

 

\---

 

“And that is why, my old friends, I have to leave you at this crucial time.” Gandalf spoke solemnly, shaking his head.

Bilbo fisted his hands at his sides. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me."

 

\---

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends I have returned!  
> So sorry about the delay - work and life in general have been rather busy.
> 
> But nevermind that - hope you enjoyed the shit-tonne of fluff!
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Un Beta'ed this chapter. Apologies if there are any errors, I'll try find them all!
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


	25. Bobbing for Chefs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company enters Mirkwood,  
> Its inhabitants are introduced,  
> And Bilbo goes for a little swim. Well. More a cheeky dip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Appears from the shadows and slides chapter over table*  
> Heeeey guys. Long time no see.  
> *Disappears back into shadows*
> 
>  
> 
> (Trigger/Content warning: small near-drowning scene, everyone lives though)

So Gandalf was leaving them. At a time like this. _Brilliant_.

“That really isn’t fucking good enough, mate.” Bilbo threatened, taking a step forward. He honestly couldn’t give two shits about Gandalf’s magazine, The Istari Insider, and that the old man had to return to the office which was _apparently_ in uproar. They needed him to stay with them and that was that, plain and simple. “You said you’d stick with us to the end, you can’t back out of that sort of a promise at the drop of a hat."

Gandalf shook his head sombrely. “I would not do this unless I had to but our main competitor, The Daily Dol Guldur, has started taking out our reporters and has targeted my close friend, Radagast, and he fears for his life.” He wrung his hands in his lap, eyes scanning the group before him. “I have a feeling something terrible is about to happen, and I must stop it before it comes to pass."

Bilbo snorted. “What, like us getting _lost in a forest and starving to death_? That sort of terrible?"

The elderly man pinched the bridge of his nose. “You must trust me, my old friend. I need to be elsewhere, and I shall return when I can."

“Fine, leave. I know once you’ve made up your mind there’s no changing it anyway.” He crossed his arms. “Just get on with the farewell, yeah? You obviously have somewhere more important to be right now."

He frowned. “My dear Bilbo, after all our years of friendship, I would think I would have received a little more civility when I told you I had to leave for matters I deem important. Do you really think that I would leave you and your friends when you needed me, just on a _whim_?” 

The Hobbit’s face fell. “Gandalf, I-"

“-I don’t need your apology, my dear. I just need your _trust_."

All the fight in him melted, and he rubbed his face tiredly, releasing a long sigh. “You’re right. As usual."

Gandalf took three long strides forward and placed a gentle hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, squeezing once. “I know you’re worried, but have faith in Thorin and his company. They know what they’re doing, why, they’re _professionals_.” He winked cheekily.

Dwalin grunted. “We’re right here, you know. We _can_ hear you."

The journalist laughed softly and nodded, taking a step back to address the whole group. “I’ll be in touch when I can, but all you really need to know is to follow the path and _never_ leave it. If you do, you most certainly won’t be able to find it again.” He paused. “We will meet again before you enter the mountain. _Don’t_  do so without me.” Gandalf directed a sharp look down at Thorin, who nodded placatingly in response.

The Head of Security harrumphed. “We know how to follow a bloody dirt path, not to worry. I can take it from here."

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow at him. “Not even to _take a piss_ , Dwalin. Don’t leave it. Many a hiker has been lost in Mirkwood before, please do be careful."

Bilbo frowned, looking over Gandalf’s shoulder to the towering trees ahead. “Anything you wanted to tell us about this place, hmm? Like why it feels like there’s a hundred fucking eyes watching us from the shadows?"

“It’s an old forest, Bilbo, and full of life. You won’t be the only ones walking through the woods tonight."

“How comforting.” Bilbo responded dryly, hitching his bag up on his shoulder. “Well, any more pearls of wisdom before you leave?"

“Yes, actually.” He looked down at Thorin pointedly. “Perhaps you should avoid the eastern region of the forest, you don’t want to stumble upon old… friends."

Thorin scowled. “ _Friend_ is not the word I would use.” 

The Hobbit looked between the two, utterly lost. “And we’re avoiding the east because…"

“Thranduil.” Thorin spat.

He blinked. “And that name should be significant to me because…"

“Later, it’s not the time.” The politician turned to face his companions. “We need to get moving, we can’t forget that Azog is still hot on our trail."

Dwalin strode forward, switching into Business Mode, clapping his hands together. “You heard him lads, let’s get a move on.” He gestured for everyone to start following him and the group organised itself into single file, heading down the path behind Dwalin, bright red lantern in hand. Bilbo and Thorin were the last to leave, the Hobbit hesitating as he passed Gandalf to say goodbye, his beau waiting politely out of earshot to the entrance to the forest whilst he did so. 

Sensing his apprehension, Gandalf laid a comforting hand on Bilbo’s upper arm. “What’s the matter?"

“It’s just… all this.” He waved vaguely at the entrance to the forest where Dwalin’s backlit silhouette could still be seen, disappearing into the dark. “Something doesn’t feel right about this place, it feels… sick. Diseased. Is there no way around it?"

“This is the fastest way, I fear.” Gandalf removed his hand, a forced smile on his face. “As I said earlier, just stick to the path and you’ll all be fine."

He squinted up at the elder man. “You’re not telling me something."

His eyes twinkled. “Guessing is half the fun. If I told you everything, you wouldn’t have so much to look forward to, would you now?"

“Right.” Bilbo glanced behind the taller man, ensuring Dwalin was still in sight, and squared his shoulders. “Well, we should probably be off."

Gandalf bent down and kissed him on the cheek, smiling brightly down at him when he pulled back. “I have every faith in you. You'll keep that lot in line, won’t you?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Sure, they’ll _definitely_ listen to me."

“You have far more of an impact on people than you realise, my dear. Don’t sell yourself short.” He looked over to Thorin who was pacing agitatedly behind them and smirked. “And thankfully your taste in men has improved dramatically of late."

The Hobbit slapped him playfully on the arm. “Rude."

“Hardly, you know I’m capable of far worse.” He cleared his throat. “Well. Stay on the path and stay safe, will you?"

“I’ll do my very best."

Gandalf’s cheer evaporated, replaced with a far more sober expression. “Hopefully that will be enough."

 

\---

 

Bilbo’s nerves were utterly shot. 

That last comment Gandalf made had sliced right through his confidence, and he found himself nervously fidgeting with his long knitted sleeves, tensing up and frantically scanning the shadows whenever he thought he heard something move. All to aware of his partner’s frazzled state, Thorin had pulled him close and placed a warm hand at the small of his back, rubbing small circles with his thumb as he lead them forward. 

They had easily caught up to the rest of the group, ignoring the harmless jabs from Bofur, teasing that they’d had a final tumble before they were stuck in a forest with the rest of the team for a few days. Thorin had laughed it off easily enough in good humour, but Bilbo had just stayed quiet, staring at the dead leaves below his feet.

After over an hour of silence, Thorin was starting to get worried.

He pulled Bilbo closer to his side, sliding his hand around to grasp the Hobbit's hip. “You alright?"

Bilbo hummed quietly in response, eyes glued to the trees to their left.

Thorin pushed again. “Bilbo?"

“Yes, yes. I’m quite alright.” He looked up at Thorin, a pained smile on his face. “I’ve never seen a forest like this before, it’s completely different to anything back in Hobbiton."

“That’s because this place is ancient.” Thorin squeezed his hip, hoping to reassure him. “You’ll get used to this place soon enough."

He sighed gloomily. “Yes, well I don’t want to get used to it.” 

“It won’t be more than a few days, we’ll be done with this place soon."

“Does the scenery change at all? Everything is so… brown and mossy.” He laughed dryly. “And this is coming from someone who usually can’t get enough of forests, but this place is another sort entirely."

Thorin snorted. “Its all very much the same, I fear."

He deflated, shoulders sagging. “I see why Gandalf went on about how easy it is to get lost, every tree looks the bloody same."

The politician looked above them, straining his eyes for any slither of starlight and hummed in agreement. “There’s a thick canopy, too."

“I wonder if we’ll get any daylight.” Bilbo groaned, mood deteriorating by the minute. “Lots of moss, no sunlight, and the stink of decay. What a lovely trip this is going to be."

“Hey, at least we aren’t on those wretched push bikes anymore."

Bilbo released a single huff of laughter. “I felt that damn bike ride in my muscles for three days, I don’t think I’ve ever been so active in my entire life."

“Hopefully you won’t be feeling this hike for too long after.” Thorin nudged their shoulders together. "How are your feet doing?"

He shrugged noncommittally. “Fine so far, Oin gave me a whole box of plasters as I wear in these damned hiking boots. They make me look utterly ridiculous, by the way."

“I don’t know about that, I think they look cute."

Bilbo glared up at him. “I look like an utter tit."

“I disagree.” He pulled the shorter man in closer, kissing his forehead awkwardly as they continued walking ahead; more bumping his lips against the crown of Bilbo's head than a proper peck. “You could make anything look good, _in fact_ , you also look _great_ naked."

A startled cough sounded ahead of them, from Oin and Gloin, and Bilbo blushed bright red as he elbowed Thorin in the side. “Alright keep your voice down, we’re not exactly alone."

“Yes, dear."

The shorter man grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms. “You’re a menace."

“ _Yes, dear._ "

 

\---

 

Making camp in the tiny clearing they had found was far more of a struggle than it was in the large, open space they had used the night previous. After attempting to put up one tent, where Nori was slapped in the side by a stray tent leg and Gloin almost lost an eye to an airborne tent peg; they promptly gave up on setting up anything that would deserve the name 'campsite'. Instead, they hung a bright blue tarpaulin a few feet above the forest floor and rolled out one below which they laid out their sleeping bags on. Finding dry firewood was also a real feat, and after a decent search only rotted, wet wood could be found.

So all in all, it was quite a feeble attempt of a campsite that they were able to rustle up that night, much to the exhausted parties delight. 

Luckily for them, Bombur had stashed away quite a collection of muesli and protein bars, a fire-free dinner option, so they all sat around the makeshift tent in silence, loudly munching down their bland, chewy meal. Bilbo sat near the edge of the structure, back leaning against Thorin’s side, morosely looking around the clearing, waiting for something to jump out and catch them off guard.

But no such surprise came, and the pinpricks of coloured light that trickled down through the thick forest canopy gradually transformed to light blue, the distant notes of birdsong heard far above, heralding the start of a new day.

Bilbo slumped against Thorin’s side, eyes fluttering shut, the empty protein bar wrapper slipping out of his hands and falling to his lap. Next thing he knew, he was being gently pushed down to lie flat, a large hand supporting the back of his head. “Sleep time?” He mumbled groggily, eyes remaining closed.

Thorin chuckled under his breath, the sounds of rustling fabric in the background as everyone else started settling down to sleep as well. “Nothing gets past you, you’re sharp as a tack.” He teased, pressing a soft kiss against the Hobbit’s temple. “I’ll get us sorted, you just lie there and look pretty."

“Too good for me, you are.” Bilbo rolled over to his side, folding his arms under his head as he peeled an eye open to watch Thorin unpack their sleeping bags from his oversized pack. 

He smiled softly, shaking his head. “Get to sleep, here-“ Thorin half-unzipped Bilbo’s sleeping bag and bunched it up, wrapping it around the shorter man’s legs as soon as Bilbo had kicked his heavy boots off. “-wriggle on in, you must be getting cold."

“I'm fucking freezing, is what I am.” Bilbo groaned, lying on his back as he pulled the sleeping bag up himself, zipping it up as soon as the rim of the bag reached his neck. “Hurry up and get ready for bed, I need that ridiculous body heat of yours right bloody now.”

“Such a lovely invitation, how could I ever resist?” He teased, shooting a lopsided grin down to his awaiting partner. “I’m coming."

“Hey, there’ll be no _coming_ tonight for either of you, we’re only a few feet away lads!” Bofur hollered, accompanied by the cheers of over half the group.

Bilbo groaned, tightening the sleeping bag around his neck. “Bastards.” 

“Ignore them.” Thorin laughed softly, settling down next to Bilbo, all zipped up in his own sleeping bag. 

He snorted. “It would be my pleasure.” Bilbo rolled over, wriggling back into Thorin’s space, and let out a contented sigh when he felt a large furred arm snake around his waist. 

Thorin shuffled in closer, tucking his cold nose into the curve of Bilbo’s neck, and pressed a chaste kiss against the warm skin. “Night, love."

“Night.” Bilbo closed his eyes and let sleep take him, the solid heat at his back soothing his nerves, letting his unconscious mind know that he wasn’t alone.

 

\---

 

After restlessly tossing about for the past hour, Bilbo lost the battle to his oncoming alertness and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He blinked blearily in the harsh midday light, filtered blue by the overhanging tarpaulin, eyes scanning the crowd of slumbering bodies in search of his missing beau. 

“I’m back here."

Bilbo spun around, clutching at his chest. “Oh fuck you very much, dear.” He whispered breathily, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage. “You can’t pull shit like that when I’ve just woken up."

Thorin smiled apologetically. “Sorry."

“Git.” He muttered fondly under his breath as he pulled himself back together, fingers running through his sleep-mussed curls. “Why aren’t you sleeping?"

“I offered to do watch.” He shrugged. “Dwalin looked like he was about to pass out, apparently he didn’t sleep last night."

“Idiot."

“I told him as much.” He snorted, then paused as he eyed the dark rings under Bilbo’s eyes. “You should go back to sleep, I’ll just be back here."

He crossed his arms, glaring up at him challengingly. “You look awful, ask someone else to take watch. You need your sleep just as much as Dwalin does, and we didn’t exactly get much rest last night either."

The tips of Thorin’s ears turned bright red, but he held his ground. “I’m fine."

“Sure.” Bilbo eyed him warily, raising an eyebrow, then released a long sigh. “Obviously I can’t say anything that will change your mind, so I may as well keep you company. Come on, budge up.” He sat up on his knees and gestured to Thorin’s side where he was leaning against a rock.

The politician rolled his eyes but acquiesced, shuffling to his left, and raised an arm for Bilbo to slot in under. “Thanks."

Bilbo wiggled in close and pulled Thorin’s arm around his shoulder, reaching up to plant a quick kiss against his furry cheek. “There, much better, hmm?"

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous."

“And yet, you still seem to want me around.” Bilbo teased, elbowing him gently in the side.

“Well, it does help that you’re gorgeous.” Thorin smiled softly, and pulled his arm tighter around the Hobbit. “Good luck getting rid of me."

The Hobbit huffed amusedly and sank back further into Thorin’s grasp, a comfortable silence falling over the couple. They sat there happily in quiet for an hour or so, Bilbo resting his head on Thorin’s shoulder, watching the surrounding treeline halfheartedly. 

A bush rustled just out of the clearing, shattering Bilbo’s comfortable reverie, making him sit up straight, eyes wide. “What was that?"

Thorin squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Come, lean back down."

He squinted into the shadows ahead, remaining frozen in place. “This place really gives me the creeps, I don’t know about you."

“It’s completely safe.” He snorted. “If anything, it’s the human inhabitants that we’ve got to worry about, not the animals."  
  
“Yeah, about that.” Bilbo turned around in Thorin’s hold, looking up at him searchingly. “What was all that ‘Thranduil’ business earlier? Are they, I don’t know, an ex or something?"

He spluttered, choking on an intake of air. “ _An ex!?_ "

Bilbo raised both hands placatingly. “Sorry, uh, an old colleague then?"

Thorin shook his head animatedly. “We… used to trade with his town, Mirkwood, before Smaug came to Erebor."

“That’s it? You seemed pretty irritated when he was mentioned earlier, seems like its a little more personal than that.” 

“We came to him for help after we were thrown out of Erebor.” He closed his eyes, rubbing them tiredly. “He wouldn't help us, just kept on going on and on about how we had brought this down upon ourselves, that we shouldn’t have mined the land so deep. We were homeless, some of my people wounded and close to death. He still turned us away.” 

He frowned. “Surely not, that’s just plain cruel."

“Thranduil abandoned us that day, and I will never forgive him for what he has done.” His hands curled into fists. "He had more than enough resources to house us for a day or two while we recovered from Smaug’s attack, but he was so proud and unforgiving that being right was deemed more important than the lives of my people."

“Jesus."

Thorin opened his eyes, a fire raging in his gaze. “That man is a cold, emotionless monster that values protecting a few trees over the wellbeing of an entire island of starving wanderers. Bloody cheese-eating surrender monkey."

“Whoa now, let’s not bring the fact that he's French into this, Thorin."

He nodded, deflating a touch. “Sorry."

“I should think so. Blind prejudice doesn’t look good on you, love.” Bilbo scolded. "Don’t get me wrong, I'm not saying that he isn’t a dick, but being French has got nothing to do with it."

“You’re right."

“Say it again for me, would you? Or better yet, could I get it in writing?” He teased, batting his eyelashes mockingly.

Thorin laughed softly, shaking his head. “And how could I resist that face?"

Bilbo preened. “Exactly what I was thinking!” He paused. “But rewind this conversation back for a moment, how is it that a bunch of French environmentalists ended up in a forest in Scotland?"

“Mirkwood was going to be deforested to build housing, so Thranduil and his tree-hugging brigade forcibly moved in and kicked up such a fuss that they were left alone.” He shrugged. “And then they just ended up staying, they’ve been here since the seventies."

“So Mirkwood was initially a French Hippy commune?” Bilbo bit back a bark of laughter. “In Scotland."

“Essentially, yes. And Thranduil kept the hair... It’s long, blonde, and ridiculous."

“Lord almighty. If he wasn’t such a prick, I’d love to meet him. He sounds utterly fascinating."

Thorin stilled at that. “Well if I have my way, we never will. Don’t get your hopes up."

He batted the comment away. “Yes yes. Calm down, I’m not going to go hunting for long-haired frenchmen late at night in the forest or anything."

“You better not."

Bilbo grinned. “I’m not exactly the hemp-wearing, quinoa-eating type, dear. It’s all processed sugar, alcohol and red meat in this soft belly of mine.” He patted his stomach happily, earning himself an amused chuckle from Thorin. "But back to the topic at hand. So, the whole 'Thranduil thing 'is why everyone has been so quiet? This place stirring old memories?"

Thorin’s smile fell. “The last time we were here, we had just been stripped of our home, many of our friends and family lost. This place hasn’t changed one bit, and the ghosts of our loved ones feel closer than ever."

He quietened, biting his lip. “Is there anything I can do?"

“You’re here by my side. That’s more than enough."

 

\---

 

“If this bloody forest path doesn’t widen soon, I don’t know what I’ll do, I really don't.” Bilbo threatened the air and nobody in particular, feet dragging on the leafy ground as they reached their tenth hour of walking for that day. “I can barely see, the air reeks of decay, and if I trip over one more fucking tree root I’m giving up and letting you all carry me and there’s nothing you could say or do to change my mind."

Thorin turned around, mid-stride, and offered Bilbo his most genuine smile. “Come on, you can make it. We’ll make camp soon, as soon as it’s sunrise."

“How long?"

“One hour, two at most."

Bilbo rubbed his face with both hands, moan muffled by his fingers. “How are you so cavalier about all this exercise, I feel like I’m on the brink of death right now. I lost feeling in my feet _hours ago_."

He shrugged, facing forwards once more. “I don’t mind it, but I usually prefer running."

The Hobbit balked. “You _like_ running?"

“It clears my head."

“You’re wrong in the head."

“ _Cheers_.” He responded dryly, voice thick with sarcasm.

Bilbo sighed. “Sorry, I’m just beyond exhausted."

“Really? Couldn’t tell, all I’m getting from you is sunshine and daisies right now."

“Hilarious."

“I try to be, yes."

“I liked you better when you were all brooding and majestic. There wasn’t any backchat."

Thorin snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind."

“Yes, well, maybe you should also eat my entire-“ Bilbo ran into Thorin’s back, not paying attention to the politician halting in front of him. 

“Well, you got your wish, love."

“Huh?” He peered from behind Thorin’s shoulder, taking in the scene before him. “ _Oh_."

The path had widened, bringing the group to the edge of a riverbank, the forest creating a perfect ring around the clearing. Dark water violently crashed against the rocks that supported a makeshift wooden bridge, and said ancient bridge appeared to be on the brink of crumbling at any moment, as if a strong wind could send it tumbling into the torrent below. 

Bilbo gulped audibly. “Please don’t tell me that’s the only way across."

Dwalin strode over, arms crossed, and nodded down at him. “Aye, lad. I’ve scoured the area, this is the only way over.” He raised his voice so the entire group could hear. "And before anyone mentions it, no, there’ll be no swimming across. Only God knows what kind of currents and sharp rocks are hidden under the water’s surface, I won’t risk it."

“I agree with Dwalin, swimming is far too dangerous.” Thorin took a few brisk steps forward, facing everyone in the small clearing. “We should send over the most replaceable ones first to test the bridge. That’d be you two, boys.” He gestured towards Fili and Kili, who bounced up and down eagerly at the proposition, ignoring the cheeky stab.

“We would love to, uncle!” Kili responded brightly, pulling his back pack tighter around his shoulders. 

Fill put a hand firmly on his brother’s shoulder, sobering him a tad, and nodded once to Thorin. “We’ll be careful."

“Good. Throw your packs over first, there’s no need to risk any unnecessary weight.” He eyed them warily. “And don’t miss the other bank, we only have enough rations for a few days."

“Not to worry. We can handle it.” Kili winked cheekily, slipped his backpack off, and used the hammer-throw technique to catapult his pack to the other side of the river, whooping when it made a satisfying ‘ _thud_ ’ at the opposite end of the bank.

“Showoff.” Fili muttered under his breath, cuffing his brother over his head before he effortlessly threw his bag to the other side with only a pinch of the dramatics.

The two of them slowly made their way to the other side of the bank, supporting each other’s elbows if one of them wobbled or lost their footing. ‘Bridge' was a very loose term for what they were climbing over, it was more a collection of rotted wood and stones that once dreamt of being a bridge. It was slippery, covered in moss, and had no handrails whatsoever; the only handholds a few wobbly vines and branches hanging from the canopy above.

As soon as the pair made the other side, the whole group visibly relaxed and let out a collective breath.

“Come on, you lot! So much for age before beauty!” Kili teased, resting down against a rock, folding his arms behind his head as he waited for the rest of the group to make their way across.

Dwalin only snorted in response, and gestured for Ori and Nori to begin their way across. And so the pattern formed and continued; two would cross at one time, helping each other when needed, and Fili and Kili would taunt from the sidelines and give a running comentary, Bofur joining in when he deemed necessary.

After waiting for what felt like a year, it finally came down to Bilbo and Bombur’s turn, Thorin and Dwalin the only two remaining behind them. Bilbo turned around and faced Thorin, wringing his hands. “Is this a bad time to mention I can only do a sorry excuse for a doggy paddle?"

Thorin’s confident smile faded. “Well... you’d better not fall, then."

He raised both eyebrows. “Gee thanks for the stellar advice, I feel _far_ better. So inspired.” Bilbo looked over at Bombur, who appeared to be just as worried as he was. “We alright, mate?"

Bombur nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack. “We best get on with it before I lose my resolve, lad."

“Good idea.” He gave Thorin a quick peck on the lips, ignoring the lewd comments being hollered from the opposite side of the river, and moved to Bombur’s side. “Any chance you feel like going first?"

“Sure, I’ll be on solid land before you will. Great plan.” 

He patted Bombur on the shoulder with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. “Well, jog on. Let’s get this over and done with."

“We’re right behind you, Bilbo. Just don’t look down.” Thorin called out, wringing his hands.

Bilbo groaned. “Well thanks, I wasn’t thinking of looking down earlier, but now I sure as hell am."

“Ignore him. He always says stupid things when he’s nervous.” Bombur offered, putting one leg up on the rickety bridge, testing it’s strength.

“Right. Okay. Time to do this.” Bilbo steeled himself and waited for Bombur to be fully on the bridge and two steps ahead before he walked forward and grabbed the edge of a mossy rock, hauling himself up and onto the first rotted step. “Just… one foot at a time. Yes. Easy does it."

“Not helping, mate.”

“Sorry, Bombur.” He lowered his voice to a sarcastic whisper as he pulled himself up onto the second step, biting his bottom lip. The third step was reached, then the fourth, and when he reached the crest of the bridge he faltered, eyes going wide. “I, uh, we forgot to throw our packs across."

“Too late, keep moving.” The chef muttered, voice wavering.

He paused his ascent and gazed back at Thorin behind him. “I forgot to take off my pack, should I throw it over?"

“Don’t worry about it, you might fall off if you try.” Thorin hollered back, hands cupping the sides of his mouth to project his voice over the tumultuous water below.

“You sure?"

“Yes, keep going Bilbo!"

He faced forwards again, watching Bombur as he continued on his way, only then noticing he had also forgotten to throw his bag across. “I think this could be an awful idea."

The chef wobbled momentarily, arms outstretched to balance himself, and froze. “I’m currently trying to concentrate on not falling into the water and drowning, please don’t break my focus."

“Sorry, I’ll shut up again."

“Cheers.” He released a lungful of air, took a hesitant step forward… and his foot went straight through a rotted plank of wood, shattering his balance, and sent him toppling over the edge to the turbulent water below. 

“Bombur!” Bilbo screamed, eyes searching the water below for any sign of the chef, who hadn’t resurfaced after plummeting down. He spun around, watching as Thorin and Dwalin sprinted forward. “I can’t see him!"

“Just wait for me, Bilbo. Don’t do anything stupid.” Dwalin commanded gruffly, front foot already on the first step of the bridge.

The Hobbit dropped his gaze and returned to worriedly scanning the water for any sign of Bombur, catching no sight of the chef. “Fuck this, I’m not waiting while he drowns.” Bilbo tore his pack off his back, threw it to the side of the bank where it hit Kili in the hip, steeled himself… and dived feet first into the water below, lungs instantly crushed by the bone-chillingly cold river.

“Bilbo!” Thorin howled, pushing Dwalin onwards, towards the space on the bridge that Bilbo had previously occupied.

But Bilbo heard nothing except the rush of water around his ears, all senses overwhelmed by his icy surroundings. He breached the water once,  spluttering loudly, coughing up a mouthful of water. “Bombur?” He paddled over to one of the rocky supports of the bridge, wheezing loudly. “I can’t see him!” And then he felt something soft press against his leg, wriggling away, and his stomach fell. “Holy fuck, get here now Dwalin! He’s caught under the water, he can’t breathe!” 

“Up here, you’ll need this.” Dwalin yelled from above, waving a retractable blade. “You better catch it, this knife is the only one I’ve got."

“Shut up and throw it, I don’t know how much air he has left!” The blade was tossed, caught swiftly in the Hobbit’s hand, and Bilbo wasted no time. He took in a lungful of breath and nose dived into the dark water below, hands searching blindly for whatever was keeping Bombur down. Thankfully, Bombur was still kicking and wriggling, showing signs of life, which calmed Bilbo a touch - but he knew he was fast running out of time.

All sense of self preservation flew out of the window as he plunged deeper and deeper into the water, hands reaching Bomur’s backpack, tugging at the fabric and discovering it was caught on an underwater branch. As quickly as he could, Bilbo started frantically hacking at the offending strap, Bombur’s kicking stilling as his arms grabbed desperately at Bilbo’s shoulders.  

His cutting doubled in speed and he felt the knife slide halfway through the strap, black spots tinting at the edges of what little vision he had, the company’s torches aimed at the water above his head, piercing through the water like eerie pillars of light. A loud splash sounded behind him and arms encircled his back, but he shook them off and continued slicing through the straps until the arms grabbed at him again and pulled him so forcefully the fabric snapped, pushing all three of them to the surface, Bombur utterly still.

Bilbo breathed in a painfully cold breath of air, spluttering as he weakly held into a jagged rock to his left, wiping the water away from his eyes as he caught sight of Dwalin floating on his back, forearm wrapped around Bombur who was pale and lifeless, eyes closed. Unable to speak just yet, he waved at Dwalin to leave him there, his arms barely holding him above the surface.

“You sure you can wait till I get back?” Dwalin yelled over the watery ruckus, pulling Bombur up as he started slipping below the water again.

“Just go, I’m fine!"

“You better be, you fucking idiot.” He scolded, kicking strongly as he propelled himself and his silent companion backwards towards the safe side of the riverbank.

He could only dig his fingertips into the crease of rock and numbly watch Dwalin leave, a vigorous shiver starting to rattle him to his very bones as he waited for what felt like a year. Bilbo could faintly hear someone calling his name from above, but all he could focus on was his depleting strength, and how crucial it was for him to remain above water, even though his eyes had started to flutter closed. “Just… just going to have a little sleep I think. Yes. S-Sounds like a good idea."

“Oh no you bloody don’t.” Dwalin closed in, shaking him unceremoniously by the shoulders. “You can sleep later, when I know you’ll wake up."

Bilbo nodded groggily. “You’re the boss."

“Jesus.” He grabbed Bilbo’s arms and turned him around in his grip, the same way he had supported Bombur, and began floating on his back, using the rocks by his side and his strong legs to take them to safety. “You better survive this so I can kill you after."

“Seems f-fair."

“Jumping into the water when you can’t fucking swim. Christ. You’re worse than Thorin. Absolutely zero regard for your own bloody wellbeing.” Dwalin muttered darkly under his breath, feet starting to brush against rock at the bottom of the river as they closed in, the worried yelling of the company gaining in volume as they came in closer. “You both deserve each other."

Despite his violent shivering and numb limbs, Bilbo opened his mouth, ready to deliver a scathing retort, but chose to let out a relieved sigh instead when he felt dry ground beneath him as he was lugged roughly onto the riverbank. “F-Fucking hell.” He turned onto his side like a beached seal and took in a loud gulp of air, eyes opening, darting around wildly for his drowned companion. “Bombur?"

“He’s out, but he’ll live.” Thorin laid a placating hand on his shoulder, expression indecipherable. “You saved his life."

Bilbo swatted his hand away, turning onto his back to take in another lungful of sweet, sweet air. “J-Just did what anyone w-would have done."

Thorin crouched by his side, gently wiping his wet curls away from his eyes. “You nearly died."

“You’re being d-dramatic."

His expression turned positively thunderous. “You were under the water for over a minute, Bilbo. For a moment I thought you’d drowned with him."

“‘M fine, see!” Bilbo waved his hands as enthusiastically as he could, but was so shattered he could only manage to look like a drunken orchestra conductor. “I’m g-grand."

“You’re going to get pneumonia."

A gooey smile appeared on his face. “Best c-come closer and make me warm then, dear."

“Christ, even on the brink of death you’re randy as all hell.” Bofur kneeled by his side, tucking a blanket over him. “He’s right though, you need to raise your body temperature.”

“Oh not you too, s-stop making a fuss."

Bofur's voice softened. “I can’t thank you enough for saving my brother, Bilbo. I’m forever in your debt."

“Stop, please.” Bilbo covered his face, shivers still wreaking havoc on his body. “Y-You’re all so serious. I’m fine."

“You’re an _idiot_.” Thorin and Bofur declared simultaneously, making Bilbo wince.

He sighed. “But Bombur’s alright?"

“He’ll be fine, yes.” Bofur tucked an edge of the blanket around Bilbo’s shoulder, hand a comforting heat. “He just lost his pack, but he’s fine."

“Wait.” Bilbo uncovered his face. “J-Just how much food did he have in his pack?"

Bofur paled. “At least a third of our rations."

“So, how many days left of food do we have?” Thorin cut in, fingers clenching around where he was holding onto the blanket at Bilbo’s side.

“Around two.” Bofur fidgeted with the edge of his moustache worriedly. “Three if we really thin it out."

“And how many days till we reach the end of this f-fucking forest?” Bilbo groaned, already knowing the answer.

“Much more than three."

Bilbo closed his eyes again, exhaling roughly. “ _Shit_."

 

\---

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy plot development Batman!
> 
> OK SO.  
> This fic has just turned one, which is sort of ridiculous.  
> I can't actually put into words how blown away I am by all the kudos and comments all of you fabulous people leave, I had no idea this dumb AU of mine would be so well received - so thank you all so so much. Really. Your comments make my week. Truly, madly, deeply.
> 
> Heads up:  
> I am still an Australian Designer who has no idea about the UK and politics. Hope I don't offend.  
> Un Beta'ed this chapter. Apologies if there are any errors, I'll try find them all!
> 
> I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can,  
> Comments most welcome!


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